Текст и перевод песни Laurika Rauch - Krisjan Swart

Krisjan Swart

Bokant die stasie
Daar woon Krisjan Swart
Tussen die spoorweg
Ennie nasionale pad
Op die muur van sy stoep
Hang die horings van ′n bok
In sy agterplaas groei 'n perskeboom
Langs ′n groot ou duiwehok
Op daai duiwe is hy trots
Hulle maak sy hart so bly
Want die silwer bekers op sy pelmet
Staan so in 'n ry
Ja hy is Krisjan Swart
Hy's wyd en syd geken
Vir sy duiwe wat so vinnig vlieg
En pryse vir hom wen

Nou Krisjan se vrou
Is lekker rond en vet
In haar hare dra sy curlers
In haar mond ′n sigaret
Pantoffels aan haar voete
Kook sy moskonfyt
Met haar een oog op die tuinjong
Wat die agterplaas natspuit
Op daai vrou is hy so trots
Sy maak sy hart so bly
Al is sy nie jonk nie
Kan sy nog lekker vry
Ja sy is Wilmina Swart
Hulle ken haar wyd en syd
Vir haar melktert en mosbolletjies
Haar beroemde boerbeskuit

Nou Krisjan se dogter
Is met ′n prokureur getrou
Hy't vir haar ′n groot wit huis
In Riebeeckpark gebou
Die kaggel in die sitkamer
Is mooi met klip versier
En 'n skildery van die Tafelberg
Hang ook daar teen die muur
Op daai dogter is hy trots
Sy maak sy hart so bly
Al is sy nie mooi nie
Het sy haar man gekry
Ja, sy is Johanna Swart
Vrou van die prokureur
Haar lippies en haar vingernaels
Is dieselfde bloedrooi kleur

Nou Krisjan se seun
Is lekker fris gebou
Maar sy stem is ′n bietjie hoog
En sy broek is 'n bietjie nou
Sy hare dra hy lank
En hy speel ook die kitaar
Krisjan vra sy vrou:
Waar kom die seun vandaan?
Op daai seun is hy nie trots nie
Hy maak sy hart so seer
Kan ek tog sy pa wees
Wil Krisjan redeneer
Ja hy is Krisjan Swart
Hy′t ook sy pa se naam
Maar sy hare en sy kitaar speel
Die maak sy pa so skaam

O, bokant die stasie
Daar woon die Swart gesin
Krisjan drink net brannewyn
Wilmina drink net gin
En hulle sit daar op die stoep
In die skemerlig so flou
Hulle kyk hoe vlieg die duiwe
Sirkels teen die blou...
Hulle sit daar op die stoep
In die skemerlig so flou
Hulle kyk hoe vlieg die duiwe
Sirkels teen die blou...
Sirkels teen die blou...

Krisjan Swart

Beside the station
There lives Krisjan the Blacksmith
Between the railways
And the highway
On the wall of his porch
Hang the horns of a ram
In his backyard grows a peach tree
Next to a large dovecote
He is proud of those doves
They make his heart so glad
For the silver cups on his mantel
Stand in a row
Yes, he is Krisjan the Blacksmith
He is known far and wide
For his doves that fly so fast
And win prizes for him

Now Krisjan's wife
Is good-natured and plump
She wears curlers in her hair
And has a cigarette in her mouth
Slippers on her feet
She cooks gooseberry jam
With one eye on the young gardener
Who waters the backyard
He is so proud of that wife
She makes his heart so glad
Although she is not young
She can still dance quite well
Yes, she is Wilmina the Blacksmith
She is known far and wide
For her milk tart and doughnuts
Her famous rusks

Now Krisjan's daughter
Is married to an attorney
He built a large white house for her
In Riebeeckpark
The fireplace in the living room
Is beautifully decorated with stone
And a painting of Table Mountain
Also hangs on the wall
He is proud of that daughter
She makes his heart so glad
Although she is not beautiful
She found her husband
Yes, she is Johanna the Blacksmith
Wife of the attorney
Her lipstick and her fingernails
Are the same blood red color

Now Krisjan's son
Is quite well-built
But his voice is a bit high
And his pants are a bit tight
He wears his hair long
And he also plays the guitar
Krisjan asks his wife:
Where does the boy come from?
He is not proud of that son
He brings him such pain
Can I still be his dad?
Krisjan wants to reason
Yes, he is Krisjan the Blacksmith
He also has his father's name
But his hair and his guitar playing
Embarrass his dad

Oh, beside the station
There lives the Blacksmith family
Krisjan only drinks brandy
Wilmina only drinks gin
And they sit there on the porch
In the dim twilight
They watch the doves fly
Circles against the blue...
They sit there on the porch
In the dim twilight
They watch the doves fly
Circles against the blue...
Circles against the blue...