Текст и перевод песни Robbie Wessels - Pieter van Zyl

Pieter van Zyl

1891, New Zealand Oos het 'n referee ontstaan
Hy's geprogrammeer, om 'n bok te keer
En te bedonder waar hy kan
Sy kop is van hout.
Dit reageer op 'n Springbok se fout
En die Bokke raak benoud.
Die ref voel fokkol vir die Groen en Goud

O, referee, referee, my arme broer
Gaan sukkel met almal maar pasop vir 'n boer
Want met klipdrift en coke word hy daagliks gevoer
En as ietsie hom pla dan staan hy reg om te moer

Pieter Van Zyl, Potchefstroom, het 'n bokkebond gestig
Hy't vas besluit, 'n ref sal skyt
Wat sy hand vir 'n springbok lig
Brandewyn op die trein,
Het die manne gebruik vir die pyn.
En Pieter se groot vriend Steyn
Het hom gedare dat die ref verdwyn.

O, referee, referee, my arme broer
Ons het jou gewaarsku, pasop vir 'n boer
Want 'n boer het daai ding om 'n ref te wil moer
Veral as sy vriende hom met brandewyn voer.

Sestien twee en vyftig sekurikor het die bokkebond gaan le.
Piet Van Zyl, het sag gehuil
En vir sy liefste vrou gesê
Pak al jou goed.
Ons gaan verdrink in die bokke se bloed.
Maar sy vroutjie sê met moed
Cornè Krige se wraak is soet

O, referee, referee, my arme broer
Gaan sukkel met almal maar pasop vir 'n boer
Want met klipdrift en coke word hy daagliks gevoer
En as ietsie hom pla dan staan hy reg om te moooooeeeer.

Pieter van Zyl

A referee was born in New Zealand Ost in 1891
He's programmed to oppose a Springbok
And to cheat where he can
His head is made of wood
Which reacts to the mistakes a Springbok makes
And the Boks get uneasy
The referee cares nothing for the Green and Golds

O, referee, referee, my poor brother
Go pick on anyone else but watch out for a farmer
Because he's fed daily on Klipdrift and coke
And if something's bothering him, he's ready to beat it down

Pieter Van Zyl from Potchefstroom, established a Boksbund
He firmly decided a referee will be shot
If he raises his hand against a Springbok
Brandy on the train
Was the boys' remedy for the pain
And Pieter's great friend, Steyn
Dared him to have the ref disappear

O, referee, referee, my poor brother
We warned you, watch out for a farmer
Because a farmer has that thing to want to beat a ref
Especially when his friends fuel him with brandy

In 1956, the security guards disbanded the Boksbund
Piet van Zyl wept softly
And said to his beloved wife
Pack all your things
We're going to drown in the Boks' blood
But his little wife says with courage
Corné Krige's revenge is ever so sweet

O, referee, referee, my poor brother
Go pick on anyone else but watch out for a farmer
Because he's fed daily on Klipdrift and coke
And if something's bothering him, he's ready to beaaaaaaaaaaaat down