Lyrics and translation Ulf Lundell - S:t Monica

S:t Monica

Solen slr igenom molnen
Som en himmelsk hr
Den lyser rtt igenom den dr
Klnningen som du br
Jag vill hyra ett hus
P en kulle i Toscana
Och se dej simma dr i poolen i
Bikini och bandana
Ohh oh oh oh
Du ser ut som jag vill kyssa dej 4ggr
Ohh oh oh oh
Hela natten lng
Jag har ditt foto p vggen bredvid
Neal Cassady och Jack Kerouac
Varje morgon str jag dr och ler
Och sjer: Tack tack tack!
Jag har varit verallt
I Paris och Panama
Men jag har aldrig mtt s bra
Som i S: t Monica
Ooooh ooohh ohhh ooohhh
Det r bara nollor som r lskade av alla
Sa Bogey, men jag r inte sker p
Att han rknade in dej i det
Se p byggjobbarna dr
Ramlar nstan ner frn huset
Nr du gr frbi
Hr hur dom tjuter som vargar dom med
SOLO
Oh ohh oohh ohhh
Skriver jag om en synl r det alltid
Nn engd djvel som
Knner igen sej, sa Piraten
Vad jag n skriver om idag
Grs jag till kvinnohatare av bara farten
Men jag ger fan i litteraturen
Jag har ett levande liv
Och S: t Monica r kultiverad
Som ett rtt stt vin
Oohh oohh oohh ohhh
Du ser ut som jag vill kyssa dej...

SAINT MONICA

The sun shines through the clouds
Like a heavenly host
It shines right through the door
The dress you wear
I want to rent a house
On a Tuscan hill
And watch you swim in the pool there
In a bikini and bandana
Ohh oh oh oh
You look like I want to kiss you four times
Ohh oh oh oh
All night long
I have your picture on the wall next to
Neal Cassady and Jack Kerouac
Every morning I stand there and smile
And say: Thank you thank you thank you!
I’ve been everywhere
In Paris and Panama
But I’ve never been so well
As in Saint Monica
Ooooh ooohh ohhh ooohhh
It is only zeroes that are loved by all
Said Bogey, but I’m not sure
That he counted you in in that
Look at the construction workers there
Nearly falling off the house
When you walk by
Hear how they howl like wolves they too
SOLO
Oh ohh oohh ohhh
If I write about a vision it is always
Some damned devil who
Recognizes himself, said Piraten
Whatever I write about today
I get accused of misogyny in the process
But I don’t give a damn about literature
I have a real life
And Saint Monica is cultivated
Like a fine old wine
Oohh oohh oohh ohhh
You look like I want to kiss you...