Текст и перевод песни Maciej Maleńczuk - Ballada O Dwóch Koniach

Ballada O Dwóch Koniach

Ech, ubawi Was ogromnie
W parę chwil balladka ta:
Raz w zaprzęgu szły dwa konie,
Szły w zaprzęgu konie dwa.

Pierwszy był to koń posłuszny,
Który w galop, cwał czy trucht
Pięknie ruszał, grzecznie ruszał
Na najmniejszy bata ruch.
Jupi jupi jaj w mordę daj
Na najmniejszy bata ruch.

Za to drugi koń był hardy,
Nieposłuszny, pędziwiatr,
W biegu szybki, w pysku twardy,
Co tam lejce, co tam bat!

Zaś gdy chodzi o woźnicę,
Co na koźle z batem tkwił,
Bardzo on to kierownicze
Stanowisko lubił był.

Jupi jupi jaj w mordę daj
Stanowisko lubił był.

Ten woźnica dnia każdego
Myślał, mrużąc ślepia złe:
Skarcę konia niegrzecznego,
Gotów jeszcze kopnąć mnie!

Lecz cóś przecież począć muszę
Albo z kozła ruszać precz,

Jupi jupi jaj w mordę daj

Po czym w stajni, już przy żłobie
Ten woźnica bat swój brał,
Brał go tęgo w dłonie obie
I... grzecznego konia prał...

A do niegrzecznego mawiał,
Strojąc głos na srogi ton:
Jak się będziesz, draniu, stawiał,
To oberwiesz tak jak on!
Jupi jupi jaj w mordę daj
To oberwiesz tak jak on!

Z tej balladki smakowitej
Niech popłynie morał w świat:
Gdy mieć pragnie autorytet
Bandzior, co ma w ręku bat.

Kto się stawia ten ma z tego
Mimo wszystko jakiś zysk,
A kto słucha i ulega,
Ten najpierwszy bierze w pysk...

Jupi jupi jaj w mordę daj
Ten najpierwszy bierze w pysk...

Ballad Of Two Horses

Oh, I'll tell you a tale that'll make you laugh,
A ballad of two fine steeds:
Once upon a time, they pulled a cart,
Two horses, side by side, indeed.

The first horse was so gentle and kind,
He'd gallop, trot, or canter so,
He'd move so gracefully, so refined,
At the slightest flick of the whip, you know.
Oh, I tell you now, it's the honest truth
At the slightest flick of the whip, forsooth.

But the second horse was a feisty one,
He was unruly, a bit of a daredevil,
He was swift and strong, his spirit untamed,
He didn't care for reins or whips, oh well!

And the driver of these two steeds,
He sat up high with a whip in his hand,
He was a coachman, oh so proud,
To be in charge, he thought it grand.

Oh, I tell you now, it's the honest truth
To be in charge, he thought it grand.

But day after day, the coachman would brood,
His eyes narrowed, his mood was sour,
He'd chastise the naughty horse, so rude,
Who dared to defy his power.

But something had to be done, he thought,
Or he'd have to quit his post.

Oh, I tell you now, it's the honest truth

So, in the stable, with whip in hand,
The coachman would punish the gentle steed,
He'd grip it tight, his knuckles tanned,
And... beat the horse that did not need.

And to the wild and unruly one,
He'd say with a voice so stern,
If you don't behave, you'll get what he done,
You'll get a beating, just you wait your turn!
Oh, I tell you now, it's the honest truth
You'll get a beating, just you wait your turn!

From this tale, so full of wit,
A moral lesson we can draw:
When a bully, with power in his fist,
Wants to keep everyone in awe.

Those who stand up, they may just win,
Despite the odds, they have a chance,
But those who obey, they'll surely grin,
But they'll be the first to get their pants.

Oh, I tell you now, it's the honest truth
They'll be the first to get their pants.