Текст и перевод песни Nuova Compagnia di Canto Popolare - Trapenarella

Trapenarella

Trapenarella c[o trapenatureTrapena 'a mamma e 'a figlia pure, E trapenianno 'mmiezo a 'sti guaieCanto 'a canzone d]a cuccuvaia.
'Na signurina cammina p[a strada'nu giuvinotto lle fa 'na guardataE chella ch'è subito femmena onesta, Areto 'o purtone s'aiza 'a vesta. San Genna' pienzace tuCa tanto d]e corna nun se campa cchiù.
'Nu prevete 'ncoppa all'altare maggiore
Te pare 'nu santo predecatore
Ma quanno va rinto 'a sacrestia,
Vo' mille lire p'a Avummaria...
San Gennà tu vide a chiste
'Mbrogliano pure a Gesù Cristo.
Nuce, nucelle, castagne 'nfurnate
Quante paise aggio curriato,
'A Torre d[o Grieco e a NunziataE quante guaie aggio truvatoE quante difiette c'aggio cantato. 'E cul'a mappata so' è veneziane,'e magnapolenta songo 'e Milano,'e meglie cantante stanno a Giugliano,'e tirapistole stanno a Casale. 'E facce toste songo italiane,'e cchiù mafiuse so' siciliane, E po' 'e sbruffune songhe 'e Rumane,'e femmene belle so' napulitane,'e mazz]e scopa so' americane.
'E mbruogliamestiere so' ll'ingegnere,
'E 'mbruogliamalate so' ll'avvocate
'E prievete fann' 'e zucalanterne,
'E cchiù mariuole stann[o guverno. San Gennà dice ca sì, Chi 'o ssape comme va' a ffernì. 'Na signurina a via Dei MilleS'ha miso 'a parrucca 'a copp]e capille,
Quanno va 'a casa se magna 'e purpette,
E chi teme famme guarda 'e rimpette.
'Nu giuvinotto cu 'e sorde d[o patoS'accatta 'o cazone 'mpusunato, Po' va dint]a machina allero allero,
E vò mena' sotto a chi va a ppere.
E cunuscite a 'sti "milorde"
E chille stanno 'nguaiate 'e sorde,
'E pate so' tanti scurnacchiate,
E campano 'ncopp[a famme 'e ll'ate. San Gennà pienzace tuCa tanto d]e 'mbruoglie nun se campa cchiù.
Me ne vaco pe' sotto 'o muro
E sento addore d[e maccarune.Me ne vaco pe' QualianoE sento addore d]e patane.
Me ne vaco p[o RanatielloE sento addore d]e friarielle.
Ma si vaco add[o putecaroTutte cose và cchiù caroMa verite quanno maie'sta miseria va aumentannoE aumenta ogge e aumenta dimaneE doppodimaneSabbato sì e dummeneca no, Chi fatica se more 'e famme,'na vota ca sì e 'na vota ca no, Chi fatica se more 'e famme,'na vota ca sì e 'na vota ca no...]

Trapenarella (Cheating Woman)

Trapenarella, oh, the cheaters, mother and daughter too, And they're cheating amidst all this trouble, I sing the song of the owl.
A young lady walks down the street, a young man gives her a look, And she, who is immediately a woman of honor, Raises her dress at the doorway. Saint Gennaro, please help us, Because with so many horns, we can no longer live.
A priest upon the high altar,
Seems like a holy preacher,
But when he goes into the sacristy,
He wants a thousand lire for the Hail Mary...
Saint Gennaro, you see these,
They even cheat Jesus Christ.
Nuts, hazelnuts, roasted chestnuts,
How many towns I have run through,
Torre del Greco and Nunziata, And how many troubles I have found, And how many flaws I have sung. The ones with the tablecloth are Venetian, The polenta eaters are from Milan, The best singers are in Giugliano, The pistol shooters are in Casale. The shameless ones are Italian, The most mafia-like are Sicilian, And then the braggarts are from Rome, The beautiful women are Neapolitan, The broomsticks are American.
The cheating professionals are the engineers,
The cheating sick are the lawyers,
The priests make the jack-o'-lanterns,
The biggest crooks are in the government. Saint Gennaro says that's right, Who knows how it will end. A young lady on Via Dei Mille, Has put on a wig over her hair,
When she goes home she eats purpette,
And whoever fears hunger looks at the leftovers.
A young man with the master's money, Buys himself embroidered pants, Then he goes in the car all haughty,
And wants to run over those who walk.
And you know these "milords",
Those who are in trouble with money,
Their fathers are so many scoundrels,
And they live on the hunger of others. Saint Gennaro, please help us, Because with so many scams, we can no longer live.
I walk under the wall,
And I smell the scent of macaroni. I walk through Qualiano, And I smell the scent of potatoes.
I walk through Ranatiello, And I smell the scent of broccoli.
But if I go to the pharmacist, Everything costs more. But it's true, when will this misery ever stop increasing? It increases today and it increases tomorrow, And the day after tomorrow, Saturday yes and Sunday no, Those who work die of hunger, One time yes and one time no, Those who work die of hunger, One time yes and one time no...]