######################################
Northern Songs “N”
Nel Mio Più Bel Giardin
(Fiori di Gelsomin)
Un giorno andando a spasso
Incontrai a una ragazza (or, in dialect?, contrai una ragazza)
Era tanto carina
Sembrava una regina
Bella, se vuoi venir
Nel mio più bel giardin
Là coglieremo i fiori
Fiori di gelsomin
(repeat)
Là parleremo deli’ amore
Accanto ai fiorellini
Carezze e baci nostri
Saranno profumati
Bella, se vuoi restar
Nel mio più bel giardin
Là coglieremo fiori
Fiori di gelsomin
Bella, se vuoi restar
Nel mio più bel giardin
Là coglieremo fiori
E parlerem d’amor.
Rough translation:
One day I went for a walk
And met a girl.
She was so pretty,
She looked like a queen.
My beauty,
Do you want to come
Into my most beautiful garden?
There we will gather flowers,
Jasmine flowers.
There we will talk of love,
Beside the blossoms.
Our hugs and kisses
Will be perfumed.
My beauty,
Would you like to stay
In my most beautiful garden?
There we will gather flowers
And talk of love.
(“In My Beautiful Garden”. Come there with me and we will gather the jasmine flowers and talk of love. Grade: B.)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Noi i Soma ij Pirolaire
“Noi i soma ij pirolaire
E venoma dal pais.
Pireu rot, madamisela,
Pireu rot da comodé?”
“Dime un po’, voi, pirolaire,
Vaire frei ch’i seve voi?”
“Noi fratei i soma dodes
E ‘l nòst pare l’è ‘l pì vej.
Des a fan ij pirolaire
Doi a fan ij carabinié.
Pireu rot, madamisela
Pireu rot da comodé?
Dime ‘n po’, voi, bela fija,
Si o vorrio maridé?”
“Oh, sì, sì, in marideria.
Veui pà pieme un pirolé!”
“Pireu rot, madamisela
Pireu rot da comodé?”
“Dime un po’, voi, pirolaire,
Andova steve voi ëd ca?”
“Mia ca l’è piantà ‘n tera,
Tut antorn para murà!
“Pireu rot, madamisela
Pireu rot da comodé?”
“Dime un po’, voi, pirolaire,
Andoa in men-e a logé?”
“’T porteroma in su la fnéra,
Su la paja dël masoé!
“Pireu rot, madamisela
Pireu rot da comodé?”
“Tant a val l’amor d’un preive
Come l’amor d’un pirolé!”
“Pireu rot, madamisela
Pireu rot da comodé?”
“Vat-ne al diao, d’un pirolaire,
E peu ancora ël tò mesté!”
Rough translation:
“We are tinsmiths,
And we come from the country.
Do you have broken pots, miss?
Broken pots for us to fix?”
“Tell me a bit, you tinsmiths,
How many brothers are you?”
“We are twelve brothers,
And our father is the oldest.
Ten are tinsmiths
And two are policemen.
Do you have broken pots, miss?
Broken pots for us to fix?
Tell me, pretty girl,
If you would want to marry one of us.”
“Of course I would marry,
But I don’t want to choose a tinsmith.”
“Do you have broken pots, miss?
Broken pots for us to fix?”
“Tell me, you tinsmith,
Where is your home?”
“My house has a good foundation,
It is well built all around!
Do you have broken pots, miss?
Broken pots for us to fix?”
“Tell me, tinsmith,
Where would you take me to live?”
“We will take you to the barn,
On the sharecropper’s straw!
Do you have broken pots, miss?
Broken pots for us to fix?”
“The love of a tinsmith
Is not worth more than that of a priest!”
“Do you have broken pots, miss?
Broken pots for us to fix?”
“Go to the devil, tinsmith,
You and your job!”
(“We are Tinsmiths”. Found in Canti Popolari del Vecchio Piemonte. According to the note in that book, this is a typical Carnival song. Two boys in masks and colorful costumes show up in the farmyard and try to enter the room of a girl from the farmhouse, with whom they exchange a series of jokes with risqué allusions. But then other young men show up, dressed as carabinieri policemen, who give chase to the “tinsmiths”, trying to arrest them. Unheard by me, so not graded. )
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Non Far La Sbarazzina
(Mia Bella Signorina)
Quando lieta passi la mattina (lieta = joyous; or, quando passa lieta alla mattina)
Spensierata e bella signorina (fickle, carefree, thoughtless, rash)
Tu diffondi tra la folla della gran città (diffondere = spread, divulge, expound)
La tua giocondità, la tua felicità
Ti rimira ti sospira allora
La canzone che sorridere ti fa
Chorus:
Non far la sbarazzina (rogue, street urchin, gamin, prankster)
Mia bella signorina
Quell’aria di monella (air of a gamin, prankster)
Ti fa più bella
Perchè sei quella
Che fa soffrir ogni cuor
Quando sarà in marina
Non più la sbarazzina
Tu stringerai sul cuore
Con più calore
Il più bel fiore
Il più bel dono d’amor
Next verse:
A la sera verso il tramontare
C’è qualcuno sempre ad aspettare
Corri corri con la luna che risplenderà
Un bacio fiorirà
L’amore nascerà
E l’amore nasce come il sole
Mi riscalda poi la sera se ne va
(Chorus)
Rough translation:
When you joyously spend the morning,
Carefree and beautiful young lady,
You spread among the crowd of the big city
Your cheerfulness, your happiness.
The crowd beholds you and you make them sigh
With your song that makes them smile.
Refrain:
Don’t play the gamin,
My pretty young lady.
That air of a naughty brat
Is what makes you more beautiful.
Because you are the one
Who makes every heart suffer.
When you go to the seashore,
No more acting like the cheeky one.
You grip my heart
With more heat,
The most beautiful flower,
The most beautiful gift of love.
Next verse:
In the evening around sunset time
There is always someone waiting
Run, run with the moon that shines
A kiss will blossom
Love will be born.
And love is born like the sun
It warms me and then the evening goes away.
(Refrain)
(“Don’t Play the Gamin”. I’m in love with you, so please get serious. Nice Tune. Grade: B+)
#########################################
Spaghetti and Macaroni
My family used pasta straight from the box, or fresh, from Maria’s store in Botany Village, or homemade. But in any case the usual preparation method of my grandparents’ generation was “pastasciutta” (pronounced more like “pasta suta” by the relatives from the Venetian region). “Asciutta” means dry, but my understanding was not that they were referring not to dry pasta from a box, as opposed to fresh, but rather to pasta with just a little sauce. The way my grandparents, great aunts and uncles and others prepared pasta, when it was cooked it was mixed into the sauce, instead of pouring the sauce over it. More importantly, they used just enough sauce to coat the pasta.
The following sauces seem good for that purpose.
Charles Bertolotti’s Spaghetti Sauce
Ingredients:
Small piece of salt pork, minced very fine
Small piece of butter
½ tbs. olive oil
½ onion chopped fine
¾ can tomato paste
1-2 cups water
Parsley, as desired, chopped fine
If you want the sauce less tomato-y, use less of the paste and add water as desired.
Directions:
Sauté the onion in the oil, butter and salt pork, then add the other ingredients. Cook for 1 ½ hours.
Here is a variation:
Sauté ½ onion (chopped fine) in oil or butter. Add 1 can tomato paste and 5 cups water. Cook.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Of course we also made “regular” Italian-American style pasta.
Red Clam Sauce
Ingredients:
1/3 cup olive oil
1 clove garlic, chopped fine
½ green pepper, chopped
¼ cup minced parsley
3 ½ cups canned Italian tomatoes
1 can tomato paste
2 cans minced clams
½ cup wine (optional)
½ tsp. dried oregano
Salt and pepper to taste
Directions:
Sauté the garlic in hot oil until brown; remove. Drain clams and save the liquid. Add the peppers, tomatoes, tomato paste, seasonings, wine (if using) and clam broth to the oil. Simmer over low heat for 30 minutes. Then add the clams and parsley (and the sautéed garlic, if desired) and cook a little longer.
The tomato paste may be omitted.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
White Clam Sauce
Ingredients:
¼ cup olive oil
1 clove garlic, minced
1 onion, finely chopped
1 large can (No. 2 ½) minced clams
2 tbs. minced parsley
¼ cup white wine (optional)
Salt and pepper to taste
Directions:
Brown the parsley, onion and garlic in hot oil until cooked. Season, and add the clams, with their water. Let simmer for 2 minutes. (Do not overcook or the clams will become too hard.)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Meatballs and Spaghetti
Ingredients (for 8 meatballs, with sauce):
1 lb. ground chuck
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
¼ cup finely minced parsley
2 tsp. salt
Pepper to taste (1/4 tsp. as a recommendation)
¼ cup dried bread crumbs
¼ cup milk (or a bit less)
1 beaten egg
¼ cup flour
¼ cup olive oil
½ cup chopped onion
1 can tomato soup (plus ¼ can water)
1 8-oz. can of tomatoes (plus 1 can water)
Directions:
Combine the meat, garlic, parsley, one-half of the salt, pepper, breadcrumbs, milk, egg and one-half of the onions. Mix thoroughly and shape into 8 meatballs. Roll the balls in the flour.
Brown the meatballs in hot oil in a frying and then remove them.
In a large pot, put in the tomato soup, tomatoes, water and the remaining onions and salt, and pepper to taste. Then add the meatballs. Simmer without a cover until the meatballs are cooked, about 2 hours.
For 20 or more meatballs, use 3 lbs. of chopped meat and increase the above ingredients proportionately.
Tip: Ground veal or ground pork can be substituted for some or all of the beef.
##########################################
Northern Songs “O”
O Angiolina
O Angiolina, bel’ Angiolina (repeat)
Inamorato io son di te
Inamorato da l’altra sera
Quando venni a balar con te (repeat last two lines)
Same pattern as above:
E la g’ha aveva la veste rossa (or, g’ha messo, s’ha messo = wore, dressed in)
E la bustina di raso blu (satin)
E le scarpette co’ le rosette
Fate apposta per ben balar. (done on purpose)
Mentre ballavi la mi guardavi
Con gli occhi color del mar
E la me bocca la me besava
La me diseva tè voi ben
Ci siamo amati ci siam sposati
Dal nostro amore ghe nato un fiol
E de so mama el gha i bei oci
La bocca el naso de so papa.
Rough translation:
Oh Angiolina, beauiful Angiolina, (repeat)
I am in love with you.
I have been in love with you from the other night,
When I came to dance with you. (repeat last two lines)
Same pattern as above:
She had on a red dress
And a bodice of blue satin
And pumps with rosettes,
Made for dancing.
While she danced she looked at me
With eyes the color of the sea.
And she kissed me on the mouth
And said that she loved me.
We loved each other and we married.
Out of our love a son was born.
He has the beautiful eyes of his mother,
And the mouth and nose of his father.
(“Oh Angiolina”. The guy falls in love with her at a dance. There is a detailed description of what she is wearing, including “shoes with rosettes, for dancing”, a phrase found in a lot of folksongs. The last verse here contains the word “fiol” (for “son”, instead of the standard “figlio”), so at least that verse must be from the Veneto region. Grade: B.)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
O Ce Biel Chischiel a Udin
O ce biel, o ce biel chischiel a Udin (or, O ce bjèl ciscjèl a Udin; chischiel = castle)
O ce biel, o ce biel chischiel a Udin
O ce biel chischiel a Udin
O ce biele zoventùt
O ce biel chischiel a Udin
O ce biele zoventùt
Zoventùt, zoventùt come a Udin
Zoventùt, zoventùt come a Udin
Zoventùt come a Udin
No s’in chiate in nissun luc
Zoventùt come a Udin
No s’in chiate in nissun luc (cannot be encountered anywhere; standard: non si trova in nessun luogo)
O ce biel, o ce biel lusor de lune
O ce biel, o ce biel lusor de lune
O ce biel lusor de lune
Che il Signor nus a mantàt
O ce biel lusor de lune
Che il Signor nus a mantàt
A bussa, a bussa fantatis bielis (or, busà; bjèlis = to kiss beautiful girls; ragazze belle)
A bussa, a bussa fantatis bielis
A bussa fantatis bielis
Noi e fregul de peçhat
A bussa fantatis bielis
Noi e fregul de peçhat (or, non l’è un frégol de pecjàt = there is not a bit of sin; standard: briciola di peccato)
O Ce Biel Chischiel a Udin – – other verses
From http://www.italyworldclub.com:
L’ai busàte, l’ai busàte une bjele ( I kissed a beauty)
L’ai busàte, l’ai busàte une bjele
L’ai busàte une bjele
E l’ai dite al siòr plebàn. (and I told the priest; plebàn = parroco = parish priest)
Il plebàn mi à dat par peniténse (the priest gave me as penance)
Il plebàn mi à dat par peniténse
Mi à dat par peniténse
Di busàla ancje domàn. (to kiss her tomorrow, too)
Rough translation:
Oh, it is beautiful, the castle of Udine.
Oh, youth is beautiful.
Youth like in Udine
Cannot be found anywhere else.
Oh, it is beautiful, the light of the moon,
That the Lord has sent us.
To kiss beautiful girls
Is not a sin at all.
From http://www.italyworldclub.com
I kissed a beauty
And I told the priest.
The priest, as penance,
Made me kiss her tomorrow, too.
(“O How Beautiful, the Castle of Udine”. This is in extreme northeast Italian (Friuian) dialect. Grade: B+.)
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
O Figlia La Mia Figlia
O figlia, la mia figlia
L’uselin te l’ho comprato
se ti vuoi maritare
Io ti dò la libertà
O mamma, la mia mamma
L’uselin l’è già scapato
Se non ritorna presto
Io mi toccherà morir
O figlia, la mia figlia
L’uselin l’è già tornato
Guarda che l’è lo stretto
E di far con lui l’amor
Rough translation:
Oh daughter, my daughter,
I’ve bought a little bird for you.
If you want to marry,
I give you your freedom.
Oh mother, my mother,
The little bird has already escaped.
If it doesn’t return soon
I will have to die.
Oh daughter, my daughter
The little bird has already returned.
Make sure to keep it confined
And to make love with him.
(“Oh Daughter, My Daughter”. The singer is going off to war and gives his daughter the freedom to marry and says his last words to his mother. Grade: B.)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
O Macchinista Getta il Carbone
O macchinista, getta il carbone (or, mette)
Quel macchinone felo marciar (or, farlo, or fallo)
Felo marciare sempre più forte
Alle case nostre vogliamo andar
Quando saremo all stazione
Che confusione che ci sarà
Là ci saranno le nostre mamme
Che a braccia aperte ci aspettaran
Dove sei stata figliola cara
Quaranta giorni mondare ‘l ris (to weed)
Mondare il riso brutto mestiere
Mangiar pagnocca riso e fasöi (a loaf?)
Mangiar pagnocca riso e fasöi
Dormir t’la paia come i giugiöi (a trifle?)
O macchinista getta carbone
Quel macchinone fallo marciar
Fallo marciare sempre più forte
Castelbelforte vogliamo andar
Castelbelforte siamo partiti
Castelbelforte vogliamo ‘ndar
Castelbelforte siamo partiti
Castelbelforte vogliamo ‘ndar
Quando saremo Castelbelforte
Tutta la gente fòri a guardar
Quando saremo Castelbelforte
Tutta la gente fòri a guardar
Cos’è successo cos’è caduto
Son le mondine che vegnu a cà
Cos’è successo cos’è caduto
Son le mondine che vegnu a cà
Oilà siamo ‘rivà
Oilà siamo ‘rivà
Oilà siamo ‘rivà
A goder la libertà
Enzo version:
O machinista, mette il carbone
Quel macchinone farlo marciar
(repeat)
farlo marciare come un dirètto (a fast train)
nostro distretto vogliam andar
(repeat)
Quando saremo a casa nostra
Le nostre mamme abbracerem
(repeat)
Abbraceremo le nostre ragazze
E noi goderemo la libertà
(repeat)
Rough translation:
Oh engineer, throw on the coal
Make that big train go
Make it go even stronger
We want to go home.
When we get to the station
What confusion there will be.
Our mothers will be there
Waiting with open arms
Where were you, dear daughter?
Weeding the rice for forty days.
Weeding rice is a dirty job
Eating just a small bit of rice and beans
Eating just a small bit of rice and beans
Sleeping on straw like the ??????
Oh engineer, throw on the coal
Make that big train go
Make it go even stronger
We want to go to Castelbelforte.
We departed from Castelbelforte,
And there we want to return.
We departed from Castelbelforte,
And there we want to return.
When we get to Castelbelforte
Everyone will come out to see us.
When we get to Castelbelforte
Everyone will come out to see us.
What is happening? What’s going on?
It’s the rice weeders, who have come home.
What is happening? What’s going on?
It’s the rice weeders, who have come home.
Hey, we are back!
Hey, we are back!
Hey, we are back
To enjoy our freedom!
Enzo version:
Oh engineer, put on the coal,
Make that big train go
(repeat)
Make it go like an express train
We want to go to our region
(repeat)
When we are home
We will embrace our mothers
(repeat)
We will hug our girls
And enjoy our freedom
(repeat)
(“Oh Engineer, Pour on the Coal”. Make it ASAP – we’re in a hurry to get home and see our mothers and lovers. Some of the verses here are by soldiers returning from battle, and some are by seasonal rice workers wanting to get back to the town of Castelbelforte. Grade; B+.)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
O Mamma Mia Che Illuminazion
E se le corne fosse lo lampion (cuckold)
O che bellezza, o che bellezza
E se le corne fosse lo lampion
O mamma mia che illuminazion
(repeat)
Other versions:
Trieste:
Becchi de Qua, Becchi de Là
Becchi de qua, becchi de là (becco = cuckold)
Se ni i xè becchi a Trieste no i stà
Se ogni becco gavessi un lampion
Oh mamma mia che illuminazion
In another dialect, a popular saying:
Se tutt i becch i purtass al lampion
O mama mia che illuminazion!
In Padua:
Se tutti i cornuti i avesse un lampion
Mamma mia che illuminazion
In another dialect:
Se tutti i caion portass al lampion
Oh mamma mia che illuminazion
In Milan:
Se tutti i bechi gavessi un lampion
Oi mamma mia che illuminazion
Rough translation:
And if the cuckolds were streetlamps.
Oh what beauty, oh what beauty.
And if the cuckolds were streetlamps.
Oh, Mamma mia, how light it would be!
(repeat)
Other versions:
Trieste:
Cuckolds here, cuckolds there
?? Without cuckold there would be no Trieste ??
If every cuckold were a streetlamp
Oh, Mamma mia, how light it would be!
In another dialect, a popular saying:
If every cuckold carried a lantern
Oh, Mamma mia, how light it would be!
In Padua:
If all the cuckolds had lanterns
Mamma mia, how light it would be!
In another dialect:
If all the cuckolds carried lanterns
Oh, Mamma mia, how light it would be!
In Milan:
If all the cuckolds had lanterns
Oh, Mamma mia, how light it would be!
(“Oh, Mamma Mia, What Light!”. If all the cuckolded husbands were street lamps, oh how bright it would be. Grade: B.)
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
O Vaga Fanciulla
(Riposa Tranquilla)
(vece canzone triestine, from the 1800s, perhaps written for a deceased wife)
O vaga fanciulla dagli occhi di venti
Riposa tranquilla nel sogni d’amore
Dei dolci peccati sei forse pentita
Mi sembri una santa discesa da ciel.
O vaga fanciulla, O angel divino
riposa tranquilla tra i sogni d’amore! (or, nel i sogni)
Nel cielo stà scritto: il mil destino
Che un giorno mia sposa sarà su nel ciel.
Sei bella, sei spendida, di bianco vestito,
Coperta la fronte di un pudico vel . . . (chaste)
Dei dolci peccati sei forse pentita
Mi sembri una santa discesa da ciel.
Allora ti vedi ancora più bella
Laggiù sulla rena, tra i balzi del mare. (sands; cliffs)
Del timido piede, sei placida e bella . . . (shy, timid steps)
Che allora il mio cuore s’infiamma d’amor!
Che allora il mio cuore s’infiamma d’amor!
(An old song from Trieste, from the 1800s, perhaps written for a deceased wife)
Rough translation:
Oh pretty girl with the eyes of a twenty-year-old
She rests quietly among the dreams of love.
You are perhaps penitent of sweet sins.
You look to me like a saint descended from heaven.
Oh pretty girl, Oh divine angel
She rests quietly among the dreams of love.
In heaven it is written: It is my destiny
That one day my bride will be up in heaven.
You’re beautiful, you’re gorgeous, dressed in white,
Your face covered with a chaste veil . . .
You are perhaps penitent of sweet sins.
You look to me like a saint descended from heaven.
Then I’ll see you even more beautiful
Down there in the sand, between the sea cliffs.
With shy steps, you are calm and beautiful. . .
Then my heart will be inflamed with love!
Then my heart will be inflamed with love!
(“Oh Lovely Girl”. Rest peacefully in dreams of love. You may not be perfect, but to me you are like a saint descended from heaven. A pretty tune, Grade: B.)
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Occhi della Cameriera, Gli
(Vorrei una Cameriera)
Vorrei la cameriera (chambermaid, waitress)
Che ne faresti tu?
Vorrei di quel begli occhi
Che ne faresti tu?
Al mio biroccio ci manca i fanali (cart; headlights)
Gli occhi della cameriera, gli occhi della cameriera
Al mio biroccio ci manca i fanali
Gli occhi della cameriera potrebbero servir
Vorrei la cameriera
Che ne faresti tu?
Vorrei di suoi capelli
che ne faresti tu?
Al mio cavallo ci manca la criniera (mane)
Capelli della cameriera, capelli della cameriera
Al mio cavallo ci manca la criniera
Capelli della cameriera potrebbero servir
Vorrei la cameriera
Che ne faresti tu?
Vorrei le sue gambi
che ne faresti tu?
Al mio biroccio ci manca le stanghe (shafts, poles)
Le gambe della cameriera, le gambe della cameriera
Al mio biroccio ci manca le stanghe
Le gambe della cameriera potrebbero servir
Other [VULGAR/EXPLICIT] verses (Campania dialect), found on http://www.scholacantorum.altervista.org:
Vorrei una cameriera
Che ne faresti tu?
Al mio biroccio mancano i cuscini
Le zizze della cameriera, le zizze della cameriera
Al mio biroccio mancano i cuscini
Le zizze della cameriera potrebbero servir.
Vorrei una cameriera
Che ne faresti tu?
Al mio biroccio manca il portafrusta
La fessa della cameriera, la fessa della cameriera
Al mio biroccio manca il portafrusta
La fessa della cameriera potrebbero servir.
Rough translation:
I would like the maid (waitress).
What would you do?
I want those beautiful eyes.
What would you do?
My horsecart lacks headlights
The eyes of the maid, the eyes of the maid
My horsecart lacks headlights
The eyes of the maid will serve.
I would like the maid.
What would you do?
I want her hair.
What would you do?
My horse lacks its mane.
The hair of the maid, the hair of the maid.
My horse lacks its mane.
The hair of the maid will serve.
I would like the maid.
What would you do?
I would like her legs.
What would you do?
My cart lacks its shafts.
The legs of the maid, the legs of the maid.
My cart lacks its shafts.
The legs of the maid will serve.
Other verses [VULGAR/EXPLICIT]:
I would like a waitress (maid)
What would you do?
My cart lacks cushions
The tits of the waitress, the tits of the waitress
My cart lacks cushions
The tits of the waitress will serve.
I would like a waitress
What would you do?
My cart lacks a whip holder
The pussy (literally, “crack”) of the waitress, the pussy of the waitress
My cart lacks a whip holder
The pussy of the waitress will serve.
(“The Eyes of the Waitress”. The singer’s cart and horse lack certain things, but the body parts of the pretty waitress will serve in their place. A bit weird, but a pretty dance tune. Grade: B.)
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Ohi Bella Se Vuoi Venire
(Sul Omnibus)
(Milanese verse)
Ohi bella se vuoi venire su’l omnibus su’l omnibus
Ohi bella se vuoi venire su’l omnibus con me
Mi no, mi vegni no, mi gh’ho pagüra, mi gh’ho pagüra
Mi no, mi vegni no, mi gh’ho pagüra de borlà giò!
(then, sul gondola, sul giòstra [merry-go-round], etc.)
(variant dialects: “go paura”, “g’ài paura”; burlar giò)
I asked Italian expert Maria at allexperts.com about some of the words to this song. She said that “I’m afraid of falling down”, which in standard Italian is “io ho paura di cadere giù” becomes “burlar giò” in Milanese. She also mentioned a modern song by singer-songwriter Fabrizio De André (1940-1999) called Bella se vuoi volare. Some of its words are:
Bella, vuoi venire in aeroplano, da Roma a Milano
Non temere per la salute, c’è il paracadute
Non temere mia piccina, ti do la manina mia
Vuoi venire a far l’amore, mia bella del cuore
Non temer per la salute, c’è il paracadute
Rough translation (of the folksong):
Hey, babe, want to ride on the bus with me?
No, I won’t come. I’m afraid of falling down.
(Then, “on a gondola”, “on a merry-go-round”, etc.)
(“Hey, Babe, Would You Like to Come?”. On a bus ride, or a gondola, etc. with me? The girl declines each invitation. Grade: C+.)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Ohi Della Val Camonica
(Valcamonica; Noi Della Val Camonica)
Ohi della Val Camonica
Noi suonerem l’armonica (or, noi soneremo)
E balleremo un po’
E balleremo un po’
Le donne e i fiori son traditori
Son fatti per amar
Cara morosa ti farò sposa
Quando ritornerò
Ricordi, Nineta, quando eri sul prà
La luna e le stelle parlavan d’amor.
O che bel fior, Ohi che bel fior
La luna e le stelle parlavan d’amor.
Ricordi i baci che ci siam dati
Alla stagion dei fior
Cara morosa ti farò sposa
Quando ritornerò
E su e giù e per la Val Camonica
Là si sente, là si sente
E su e giù e per la Val Camonica
Là si sente che cantar (or, de cantar)
Rough translation:
Oh we of the Valley of Camonica
Play the harmonica
And we dance a bit
And we dance a bit.
Women and flowers are traitors
They are made to love
Dear girlfriend, I’ll make you my bride
When I return.
Remember, Nineta, when you were in the meadow.
The moon and the stars spoke of love.
Oh what a beautiful flower. Oh what a beautiful flower.
The moon and the stars spoke of love.
Remember the kisses that we exchanged
When the flowers bloomed
Dear girlfriend, I’ll make you my bride
When I return.
And up and down the Valley of Camonica
You can hear it, you can hear it.
And up and down the Valley of Camonica
You can hear the singing.
“Val Camonica”, also spelled Valcamonica, is a valley in northeast Lombardy with quite a bit of ancient, medieval and modern history. (Perhaps because the valley was the site of a major fascist-Nazi vs. partisan battle in 1945 there is an alternate version of this song with military-partisan lyrics, often called “Noi Della Val Camonica”.) The various verses have different melodies, so this seems to be a favorite for choral singing. Grade: B
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Osterie, Le
***EXPLICIT***
Note: A lot of these verses are obscene and/or blasphemous. You may want to skip to the next song.
First, a version found on http://www.italianfolkmusic.com that is said to be “fit to print”.
Osteria numero zero
Para-bom zi-bom zi-bom
È successo un fatto nero
Para-bom zi-bom zi-bom
Anche i morti putrefatti
Si ubriacavan come matti (get drunk like crazy)
Daghela ben biondina daghela ben bionda
(Same pattern below)
Osteria numero uno
Non c’è dentro mai nessuno.
Ma c’è dentro la padrona
Che davvero è proprio bona
Osteria numero cento
Vieni fuori se sei dentro
Non puoi star sino a sera
A ubriacarti di barbera
Osteria del grignolino (type of Piemontese wine)
Qui si beve solo vino
Chi non beve in compagnia
O l’è ladro o l’è spia (is a thief or a sneak)
Osteria numero mille
Questo vino fa scintille.
Fa scintille, scintilline
Su bevetelo o bambine
Next, Version 2
Osteria numero uno: In cantina non c’è nessuno (or, In casina)
Ci son solo preti e frati che si inculano beati
Refrain:
Dammela a me, biondina, dammela a me bionda!
Variations of the refrain:
Daghe da ber biondina, daghe da ber bionda
Or
Daghela ben biondina, daghela ben bionda
Or
(in Venice): Dagli da bere biondina, dagli da bere bionda
Osteria numero due: le mie gambe tra le tue . . .
Le tue gambe fra le mie, fanno mille porcherie (dirty deeds, obscenities)
Daghela ber biondina, daghela ber bionda
(Same pattern below)
Osteria numero tre: la Peppina fa’ il caffè
Fa il caffè alla tirolese con le pezze del marchese . . . (rags?)
Osteria numero quattro: la marchesa aveva un gatto . . .
… con la coda del felino si faceva un ditalino . . . (fingering)
Osteria numero cinque: c’è chi perde c’è chi vince . . .
Ma chi perde caso strano se lo trova dento l’ano . . .
Osteria numero sette: il salame piace a fette (in slices)
. . . ma alle donne caso strano il salame piace sano . . . (whole)
Osteria numero venti: se la figa avesse i denti . . .
Quanti cazzi all’ospedale, quante fighe al tribunale . . .
Osteria numero trenta: chi dà il culo non si penta … (repents)
Oggi giorno caso strano và di moda il deretano . . . (ass backwards)
Osteria numero cento: se la figa andasse a vento (sails with the wind)
. . . quanti cazzi in alto mare, tu vedestri navigare (you would see them sail)
Osteria dei dottori: hanno tutti il cazzo fuori . . .
. . . e li danno alle colleghe per non farsi delle seghe … (don’t saw it)
Other verses:
Osteria numero otto: la puttana fa il risotto
Il risotto è ben condito con lo sperma del marito (condito = seasoned)
Osteria numero quattro: la servetta ha rotto un piatto
Per non farselo vedere se lo ficca nel sedere (hid in her bottom/buttocks)
Osteria numero nove: i soldati fan le prove
Fan le prove contro il muro per veder chi l’ha più duro
Osteria del cimitero: è successo un fatto nero
Da cadaveri putrefatti se inculano come matti (like crazy)
Osteria del vaticano: è successo un fatto strano
Papa sista co l’occhiali se batteva i cardinali (eyeglasses)
I cardinali poveretti se battavano i chierichetti (altar boys, choir boys)
I chierichetti co’ mezza piotta se cercavano ‘na mignotta (half a hundred lire;
a bitch)
Osteria del vaticano: esce il papa col cazzo in mano
Bestemmiando porco Dio un pò di fregna la voglio pur io . . . (swearing; quim)
Osteria numero mille: il mio cazzo fa scintille
Fa scintille rosse e gialle che mi illuminano le palle (the balls)
Manca l’osteria numero mille: il cazzo mio fa scintille
Fa scintille sulla fregna figuramose sulla legna (let alone; on wood, firewood)
Osteria numero mille: il mio cazzo fa scintille
Fa scintille sulla legna pensa un poco nella fregna . . .
Osteria numero cinque: la marchesa se dipinge (painted herself)
Se dipinge se impastrocchia i peli della cocchia
Osteria del Gallo d’Oro: è un stronzo chi fa il coro
Ma il più stronzo della lista è co lui che fa il soloista (lista = band)
Osteria numero N: il mio cazzo ha le antenne
E se inculo il sagrestano sento radio vaticano (the sexton)
Osteria del Gallo d’Oro, si beve birra e si rutta in coro (belch in chorus)
Osteria numero nove: la Marchesa fa le prove . . .
Fa le prove col prosciutto per veder se entra tutto
Next, a version in Lombard: (Everything here is a guess)
Osteria numero zero: è su chieso e fatto nero
Anche il vech del buta al taz salterà ven cumeràn
(refrain at the end of each verse:
Daghela ben biondina, daghela ben bionda)
Osteria del numer vun: A ghe’l denter mai nessun
A ghe’l dentro la parola che le una tuzza bella e bona . . .
Osteria del numer dü: a gh’e denter le e lu
A fa mi sema la fritada cul caffè di cioculada
Osteria numero tre: La Peppina la fa ‘l caffè
La fa ‘l caffè tre volte al mese e sogrito fa le strese
Osteria del numer quater: Gun cum me si sul a vater
A sun curs come un dana des me sempre libera
Osteria del numer cin: una pesciada cun tristin
Mi son sür del vestro bür tra cu no come un barbun
Osteria numero sei: vieni qua io tengo i miei
Sono belli sono buoni i banana co i maroni
Osteria numero sete: tutte le donne a le scarpette
Ha scarpette per marciare e la boca per baciare
Osteria del number vott: a gh’e sun chiesa è quaran tott
La mia Zia Carolina traca nava la bezina
Osteria numero nove: La Rosina fa le prove
Fa le prove col prosciutto per veder se cista tutto
Osteria del numer des: ha guier scu mi scirez
Mi a cünti a dü a dü per si la mi cünti für . . .
Rough translation (of the “fit to print” version):
Tavern (inn) number zero
Para-bom zi-bom zi-bom
A foul event happened there
Para-bom zi-bom zi-bom
Even the rotten dead
Got crazy drunk.
Refrain:
Serve it up well blondie, serve it up well, blonde.
(Same pattern below)
Tavern number one
There’s never anyone inside
Except for the hostess,
Who is really, really good!
Tavern number 100
Come out, if you’re inside it.
You can’t stay there until evening
Getting drunk on barbera wine.
The tavern of the grignolino (type of Piemontese wine)
Here you can drink only wine.
He who does not drink with friends
Is a thief or a sneak.
Tavern number 1000
This wine sparkles.
It will make you sparkle, little sparkling ones,
When you drink it, girls.
Next, the dirty verses [EXPLICIT/OBSCENE]
Tavern number one:
There is no one in the wine cellar.
Only priests and monks,
Who bugger blissfully (blessedly).
Refrain:
Give it to me, blondie, give it to me, blonde.
Variations of the refrain:
Give me something to drink, blondie, give me something to drink, blonde
Or
Serve it up well, blondie, serve it up well, blonde
Or
(in Venice): Give him a drink, blondie, give him a drink, blonde
Tavern number two:
My legs are between yours . . .
Your legs are between mine
Doing a thousand filthy things
Refrain:
Give me a drink, blondie, give me a drink, blonde.
(Same pattern below)
Tavern number three;
Peppina makes coffee
She makes Tyrolean coffee
With the rags of the ladies.
Tavern number four:
The marchesa had a cat . . .
She did a little fingering
With the tail of the cat.
Tavern number five:
There are those who lose and those who win . . .
But, it’s strange, he who loses
Feels it in the ass . . .
Tavern number seven:
We like salami sliced.
But it’s strange, the ladies
Like the salami whole . . .
Tavern number twenty:
If pussies had teeth,
How many cocks would be in the hospital,
How many pussies would be in court!
Tavern number thirty:
He who gives his ass does not repent . . .
But, strangely, nowadays,
He goes ass backwards.
Tavern number 100:
If pussies sailed with the wind
How many dicks would be on the high sea,
You would see them navigating.
Tavern of the doctors:
They all have their cocks out . . .
And they give them to their colleagues,
So that they are not sawn off.
Other verses:
Tavern number eight:
The whore makes the risotto
The risotto is well seasoned
With the sperm of the husband.
Tavern number four:
The waitress broke a plate.
To hide it,
She stuck it in her butt.
Tavern number nine:
The soldiers do a test
They do a test against the wall,
To see who has the strongest.
Tavern of the cemetery:
A foul deed happened.
The rotting cadavers
Were buggering like crazy.
The Tavern of the Vatican:
A strange thing happened – –
Pope the Sixth was beating the cardinals
With his spectacles.
The poor cardinals
Were beating the altar boys.
The altar boys, with fifty bucks,
Were looking for a bitch.
The Tavern of the Vatican:
Out comes the Pope with his cock in his hand.
Goddammit,
I want a little pussy.
Tavern number 1000:
My cock is sparkling.
It makes red and yellow sparks
That light up my balls.
Tavern number 1000 is missing:
My cock is sparkling.
It makes sparks in the pussy,
Let alone on wood.
Tavern number 1000:
My cock is sizzling.
It makes sparks on wood,
Thinking a little about pussy.
Tavern number five:
The marchesa put makeup on.
She painted and made a mess of
The hairs of her ass.
The Inn of the Golden Rooster:
It was an asshole who formed the chorus.
But the biggest asshole on the list
Is the one who is the soloist.
Tavern number “N”:
My cock has antennas.
And if it buggers the sexton
It can hear Vatican Radio.
The Inn of the Golden Rooster:
Drinking beer and burping in unison.
Tavern number nine:
The Marchesa tried an experiment.
She experimented with a prosciutto
To see if she could fit it all in.
Next, a version in Lombard: (Everything here is a guess)
Tavern number zero:
A foul deed happened in church.
?????????????
?????????????
Tavern number one:
No one is inside.
Just the word that inside
Is all beautiful and good.
Tavern number two:
He and she are inside.
To make me a fritata
With chocolate coffee.
Tavern number three:
Peppina makes the coffee.
She makes coffee three times a month
And ??????????????
Tavern number four:
?????????????
Tavern number five:
?????????????
Tavern number six:
Come here, I have mine.
They are beautiful, they are good.
A banana and chestnuts.
Tavern number seven:
All the women are in shoes.
They have shoes for walking
And mouths for kissing.
Tavern number eight:
Forty-eight people are in church.
My Aunt Carolina
??????????????
Tavern number nine:
Rosina tried an experiment.
She tested a prosciutto
To see if it would all fit in.
Tavern number ten.
???????????????
(“The Taverns”. A humorous drinking song about the various strange things going on in various inns or taverns, many of the events not repeatable (although I did so above). Grade: B.)
######################################
Seafood
Crabs . (Mazonette, in the “dialect” of Veneto)
We went crabbing in Barnegat Bay, usually using lines rather than traps, since lines are more fun. We crabbed from shore, from rowboats, or from the motorboats expertly captained by the DeMollis and Disoteos.
As for cleaning, you can take the crabs home in baskets or buckets lined with some wet seaweed. Then drop them live in a boiling pot, and the diners have to do the cleaning themselves. Or, if you have access to a pier-side hose or the like, you can stab the crabs right where their necks would be. The crabs die instantly. Then rip the bottom shell off so the lungs and other junk can be washed out. But you may want to be careful to preserve the yellow roe and such, as many people like to eat that. In either case, get the crabs home and cooked ASAP. (If you do the cleaning with an outdoor hose at home, the grass around there will be very green, as the crab leavings are excellent fertilizer.)
Our method of preparing the crabs was easy: “marinate” the crabs, in their shells, with oil, pepper and parsley. Maybe add some sliced or minced raw garlic. Add a little vinegar if you like that. Sloppy eating, but delicious.
#####################################
Northern Songs “P”
Paesanella
Come sbocciano i prati smaglianti di fior (to blossom; shining, brilliant)
Quando maggio brilla al sole,
Anche tu sei sbocciata tra il vivo spendor
Nel villagio dell’amor.
Mentre i cuori salutano il sorger del di ( the arising)
Cantano al vento così:
Quando scendi dai tuoi monti, paesanella,
Ti sorridono le fonti, paesanella,
Ogni sguardo t’accompagna, perchè sei bella
Sognano i cuori un tuo bacio d’amor, paesanella.
Non ti chiamo no “Meri” e neppure “Mariù”
Ma il tuo nome ü Maria
Tu non porti le ciglia rivolte all’insù (eyebrows turned up)
Ma in tuo sguardo val di più
E la sera nell’ombra di un raggio lunar (ray, beam)
È così dolce cantar:
Quando scendi dai tuoi monti . . . (repeat as above)
Anche il sole che t’indora, dice “sei bella”. (gilds you)
Sognano i cuori un tuo bacio d’amor, paesanella.
Rough translation:
As the meadows bloom brialliantly with flowers
When the sun shines in May,
You also blossom in living splendor
In the village of love,
While hearts greet the rising of the day,
Singing to the wind like this:
(Refrain):
When you come down from your mountains, country girl,
The fountains smile at you, country girl.
Every glance goes to you, because you are beautiful.
Hearts dream of your kiss of love, country girl.
Your name is neither “Meri” nor “Mariù”.
No, your name is Maria.
You don’t wear upturned eyelashes
But your glance is worth more.
And in the evening in the shadow of a moon beam,
It is so sweet to sing:
(Refrain)
Even the sun gilds you, saying, “You are beautiful.”
Hearts dream of your kiss of love, country girl.
(“The Rustic Girl”. When Maria comes down from her mountain, the whole village feels as if spring has come. Grade: B.)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Pansa L’è Tant Grossa, La
A Piemontese version, found in Canti popolare del Vecchio Piemonte, ibid.:
“O fija, mia fija, dime la verità.
La pansa l’è tant grossa: cosa che t’hai mangià?
Dime chi ch’e l’è al pare, pare d’ista masnà.”
“Mama, mia cara mama, o cara mama, ohimì!
La verità a vla digh, o sì a vla dig ben mi.
A l’è propi al spessiari, l’è chiel ch’ a m’ha tradì.
O mi vla digh mi la verità:
L’è cul spessiari de la Nunzià,
L’è chiel al pare d’ista masnà.
O cara mama, che brutt destin
Pruntà dal fassi cun di cussin!
Bsogna fassà al me car ninin.”
E cul spessiari s’ butta a crià:
“Sun gnanca ancura maridà,
E già la balia bsogna pagà!”
“Mama, mia mama, vad a Turin,
Mi v’ ricumand al me ninin
Mi v’ ricumand al me Tunin.
Dej dra panada cun pan grattà,
pulenta frèida cun dra laccia.
Ben prest an forze chiel al cressrà.”
Rough translation:
“Oh daughter, my daughter, tell me the truth.
Your belly is swollen. What have you eaten?
Tell me who is the father, the father of this child.”
“Mother, my dear mother, oh dear mother, alas!
I’ll tell you the truth. Oh, yes, I’ll tell you so well.
It is the grocer; he took advantage of me.
Oh, I’m telling you the truth:
He’s the grocer at the store called the “Annunciation”
And he’s the father of this baby.
Oh dear mother, what a sad fate,
Having to prepare swaddling clothes and cushions!
My little one has to be swaddled.”
And the grocer starts shouting:
“I’m not even married yet,
And already I have to pay the wet-nurse!”
“Mother, my mother, I am going to Turin.
I entrust you with my little boy.
I entrust you with my Tony.
Give him a basket of breadcrumbs,
Cold polenta with buttermilk.
Soon he will grow handsome and strong.”
(“The Stomach Is So Big”. This an account about how the result of a fling was handled in the old days; presumably this was a fairly common way. A bit gloomy but also hopeful. Ungraded, since I haven’t heard the song.)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Papa Rogne
(Dansa Pa Desù Lo Fen)
A dance tune from Valle d’Aosta. Here is the refrain, in a Valle d’Aosta dialect, sung by group on Alan Lomax collection (in which the title is spelled “Pappa Rogne”).
Refrain/first verse (only):
Dansa pà desù lo fen
Papa rogne, papa rogne
Dansa pà desù lo fen
Papa rogne, mama dit ren
[repeat]
In standard Italian (as translated by Gian Mario Navillod):
Non ballare sul fieno
Papà brontola, papà brontola
Non ballare sul fieno
Papà brontola, mamma non dice nulla
[repeat]
Rough translation:
Don’t dance on the hay
Papa will grumble, Papa will grumble
Don’t dance on the hay
Papa will grumble, Mom will say nothing
Next, a Piemontese version, found in Canti popolare del Vecchio Piemonte, ibid. This includes the verses sung on the Alan Lomax recording.
Dansa pa dessu lo fèn,
Papa rogne, papa rogne,
Dansa pa dessu lo fèn,
Papa rogne, mama di ren.
Papa rogne, papa rogne,
papa rogne, mama di ren.
En tzé Pery no s-allen
Beire la branda, beire la branda
En tzé Pery no s-allen
Beire la branda, to pe ren.
Beire la branda, beire la branda
Beire la branda, to pe ren.
Su pe Cogne no s-allen
Lappé de crama, lappé de crama,
Su pe Cogne no s-allen
Lappé de crama, to pe ren
[Here and below, same pattern as above]
Filomène su un pommé
Roudze de pomme, roudze de pomme;
Filomène su un pommé
Roudze de pomme comme un vé.
Rough translation:
Don’t jump on the hay,
Dad will grumble, Dad will grumble
Don’t jump on the hay,
Dad will grumble, Mom won’t say anything.
Let’s go to Péry
To drink brandy, to drink brandy
Let’s go to Péry
To drink the brandy for free.
Let’s go up to Cogne,
To gorge ourselves with cream, to gorge ourselves with cream,
Let’s go up to Cogne,
To gorge ourselves with cream for free.
Filomena with an apple
Gnaws it badly, gnaws it badly
Filomena with an apple
Gnaws it badly, like a calf.
(“Papa Will Grumble”. Mr. Navillod’s website http://www.tapazovaldoten.it has many more verses and versions of this song. So does the group on the Alan Lomax collection, but I cannot tell if the sung verses on the record correlate with the written ones on the website, so I include only the first verse, which is the same on both. Take a look at that site for a ton of information and songs from Valle d’Aosta. Grade: B+.)
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Partenza, La
(Partenza da Parigi, La)
La partenza da Parigi
Sta per andar sta per andarsene
A Livorno
Ma caminando
Di notte e giorno
Sempre pensando
O bella io stò pensando
Sempre a te
Mio ben
Rough translation:
The departure from Paris
He is about to leave, he is about to leave
For Livorno
But walking
By night and day
Always thinking
Oh, my dear, I am thinking
Always of you
My love
(“The Departure”. This tune is often sung by Genoese choral groups in the polyphony style called “trallalero”. Grade: A, because of the skill of the trallalero singers.)
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Pastora, La
(E Lassu Sulla Montagna)
E lassù sulla montagna, gh’era su ‘na pastorella, (or, le montagne)
Pascolava i suoi caprin su l’erba fresca e bella
E di lì passà un signore, e’l ghe diss:
“Oi pastorella, guarda ben che i tuoi caprin lupo non se li piglia.”
Salta for lupo dal bosco, con la faccia nera, nera
L’à magnà ‘l più bel caprin che la pastora aveva.
Ed allor si mise a piangere, e piangeva forte forte (or, la piangeva tanto forte)
A veder il ben caprin, vederlo andar a morte.
Rough translation:
And up there in the mountains, there was a young shepherdess.
She grazed her little goats on fresh and beautiful grass.
A gentleman passed by there, and he said:
“Oh shepherdess, be careful that a wolf does not seize your goats.”
A wolf leaped out of the woods, with a black, black face.
He ate the cutest little goat that the shepherdess had.
And then she bagan to cry, and she cried so hard
To see the beautiful little goat, to see it go to its death.
(“The Shepherdess”. There are many versions of this song. Also, the theme of La Pastora e il Lupo (the next song) is similar, and the words of some versions of that are almost the same as La Pastora. In this version a passing man just warns the shepherdess about a wolf. Sure enough, the wolf grabs her favorite little goat and kills it. Grade: B+.)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Pastora e il Lupo, La
La bêrgèra larga i môtôn
E la bêrgèra larga i môtôn
All lung de la riviera.
E ‘l sol levà l’era tab’ càud
La sé setà a l’ômbrêta,
J’è sôrtì ‘l gran lüv dêl bosc
J’è sôrtì ‘l gran lüv dêl bosc
Côn la bôca ambajeja,
A j’à pià ‘l pi bel barbin
À j’era ‘n t’la trupeja,
La bêrgèra ‘s büta a criar,
E la bêrgèra ‘s büta a criar,
Aj, mi prova fieta!
Se qualcün a m’ajüteis,
saràa sôa môrôséta.
Da lì passa gentil galant,
E da lì passa gentil galant,
côn la sua bela speja.
A j’à dait tre côlp al lûv,
barbin l’è saôta ìn tera.
Mi v’ringrassiô gentil galant
E mi v’ringrassiô gentil galant
Mi v’ringrassiô d’ vostra pena.
Quand ch’i tônda ‘l me barbin,
vi dônarò la lena.
Mi na sôn pa marcant da pann
E mi na sôn pa marcant da pann,
e gnaca de la lena,
U basin dêl vost buchin
Mi pagherà la pena.
Rough translation:
The shepherdess herded her sheep
Along the shore.
When the sun rose it got quite hot
So she sat in the shade.
A big wolf came out of the woods
With a gaping mouth.
It snatched up the cutest little lamb
And ran up the mountain.
The shepherdess fell down crying:
“Oh, what a trial!
If someone would help me
I would be so grateful.”
A kind gentleman passed by there
With his good sword
And he gave three blows to the wolf.
The lamb jumped to the ground.
“I am grateful to you, kind gentleman.
I am grateful for your pains.
When I shear the sheep
I will give you the wool.”
“I am not a wool merchant,
And don’t want the wool.
A little kiss from your lips
Will repay me for my pains.”
(“The Shepherdess and the Wolf”. This is a Piemontese version found on http://www.folklyrics.net, which explains the song: A wolf grabs a sheep from a shepherdess. A gallant man comes to her rescue and saves the sheep. For his reward he wants only a kiss. Betti Zambruno and Tendachent sing this version. La Pastora has a generally similar theme. The Piemontese dialect/language sounds like Italian with a French accent. Grade: B+.)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Pellegrin, Che Vien Da Roma
Pellegrin, che vien da Roma,
A va l’birosch
Cun le scarpe rott’ in pè
Birosch el va, birosch el va
Pellegrin che vien da Roma cun le scarpe rott’ in pè
Non appena fu arrivato, (no sooner than)
A va l’birosch, a va l’birosch
All’osteria se ne andò.
Birosch el va, birosch el va
Non appena fu arrivato
All’osteria se ne andò
(For the following, same pattern as above.)
Buona sera, signor oste
C’è una camera per me, per me?
Camera c’è ne una sola
Dove dorme me mujer, me mujer
Per maggiore siccurezza
Metterem’ un camapnell’, un campanell’
Mezzanotte era suonate
Campanell’ sentì a suonar, a suonar
Spurcaccion’ del Pellegrino
Sa ghe fatt’ a me mujer?
Se campassi anche cent’anni (He lived)
Del pellegrin ne teni pè
Rough translation:
The pilgrim, who came from Rome,
Going by horsecart
With broken shoes on his feet
He went by cart, he went by cart
The pilgrim came from Rome with broken shoes on his feet.
No sooner than he arrived
(Going by horsecart)
He went to the inn
(He went by cart, he went by cart)
As soon as he arrived
He went to the inn.
(For the following, same pattern as above.)
Good evening, innkeeper.
Do you have a room for me, for me?
There is only one room,
Where my wife is sleeping, my wife.
For added security
We put in a bell, a bell.
When midnight struck
He heard the bell ring, it rang.
You dirty pilgrim!
What have you done to my wife?
Even if he lives a hundred years
The pilgrim will have feet.
(“The Pilgrim From Rome”. Another song about a guy (a pilgrim from Rome with broken shoes on his feet) getting beat up by a jealous husband (the innkeeper). An old classic. Grade: B.)
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Per Un Bacio D’Amor
Con la chitarra il cuore che fa tipete tipete ta
Bella che dorme ti voglio restar zuchette zuchette za
In questa notte col cielo d’incanto (or, de un ombro)
Io canto ti chiamo così
Vieni discende mia piccola stella
Più bella la notte per ti
Ah, ah, ah, ah, vieni t’aspetto son qui
Chorus:
Per un bacio d’amor, O bella bruna
Ti darò tutto il cuor, al chiar di luna
Un tuo bacio d’amor, O che fortuna
Voglio dirtelo ancor ti darò tutto il cuor
Per un bacio d’amor.
Non ho più voce, non posso cantar tipete tipete ta
L’ultima corda continua suonar zuchette zuchette za
Lasciate ti porta le bianche lenzuole
E vola mia bella qua giù
Vieni discendi di corsa sortita
Svestita mi piace di più
Ah, ah, ah, ah la mia canzone sei tu
(chorus)
Rough translation:
The guitar makes the heart beat tipete tipete ta [pitter-pat]
Beauty who sleeps, I want you to stay, zuchette zuchette za [sweetly]
On this night with an enchanted sky
I sing, calling to you like this:
Come, descend, my little star
On the most beautiful night for you.
Ah, ah, ah, ah, come, I am here waiting.
Chorus:
For a kiss of love, Oh beautiful brunette
I’ll give you all my heart, in the moonlight.
Your kiss of love, Oh how lucky.
I want to tell you again that I will give you all my heart
For a kiss of love.
I have no more voice, I cannot sing tipete tipete ta
The final chord continues to sound zuchette zuchette za
Leave behind the white sheets you are wearing
And fly down here my love
Come, descend to the exit quickly
I like you best undressed.
Ah, ah, ah, ah my song is you.
(chorus)
(“For a Kiss of Love”. This may be more of a pop love song than a folksong. The singer pledges his heart for a kiss from the beautiful brunette. Grade: C.)
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Pescatore Dell’Onda, Il
(See also Tre Sorelle, which is very similar in its story)
O pescatore dell’onda, ‘na pura bella e fiore d’amor
O pescator dell’onda, vieni a pescare con me
Che mi cascò l’anello, ‘na pura bella e fiore d’amor
Che mi cascò l’anello se me lo puoi trovar
L’anello te lo trovo, ‘na pura bella e fiore d’amor
L’anello te lo trovo e tu che mi darai?
Ti dono tre centonse, ‘na pura bella e fiore d’amor (or, trecento scudi)
Ti dono tre centonse, e ‘na borsa ricamata (embroidered purse; or, la borsa del denar = money purse)
Non voglio tre centonse, ‘na pura bella e fiore d’amor
Voglio un bacin d’amore, se me lo puoi donar
E vattane birbantello, ‘na pura bella e fiore d’amor (rascal/rogue)
E vattane birbantello, lo dico al mio papà
Ti metterà in prigione, ‘na pura bella fiore d’amor
Ti metterà in prigione e poi t’inforcherà (hang)
Se vuoi fare l’amore, ‘na pura bella e fiore d’amor
Se vuoi fare l’amore, diglielo al mio papa
Io voglio un palazzotto, ‘na pura bella e fiore d’amore
Io voglio un palazzotto con trentasei balcon
‘Na finestrella in faccia, ‘na pura bella e fiore d’amore
‘Na finestrella in faccia, poi lì facciamo l’amor.
(Note: In some versions of Tre Sorelle, instead of the refrain here – – ‘na pura bella fiore d’amor – – there is “pianta de rose, ramo de fior” or “pianta di rose e ramo d’amor”. In this version, in fact the words of the refrain might be, “Napule bella e fiore d’amor”, which would make this a version from Naples.)
The following are lyrics from a different, even older and more classic song but with similar ideas and words.
O pescator dell’onda, fi da lin (repeat)
Vien pescar più in qua
Colla bella tua barca (“He is flying over the sea.”)
Colla bella se ne va
Fi da lin, lin, la
O pescator dell’onda, fi da lin (repeat)
Vien pescar più in qua
Che cosa vuol ch’io peschi?
Fi da lin
L’anel che m’è cascai
Colla bella sua barca
Ti darò cento scudi, Fidelin
Sta borsa ricami
Colla bella sua barca
Or,
Vieni a pescsare il mio anello che me è caduto in mare.
Rough translation:
Oh fisherman on the waves, pure, beautiful flower of love
Oh fisherman on the waves, come fish with me.
My ring has fallen off, pure, beautiful flower of love
My ring has fallen off, can you not help me find it?
If I find the ring for you, pure, beautiful flower of love
If I find the ring for you what will you give me?
I’ll give you three coins, pure, beautiful flower of love
I’ll give you three coins and an embroidered coin purse
I don’t want three coins, pure, beautiful flower of love
I want a little kiss of love, if you can give it to me.
Stop being a rascal, pure, beautiful flower of love
Stop being a rascal, or I’ll tell my father
He’ll put you in prison, pure, beautiful flower of love
He’ll put you in prison and there they’ll hang you
If you want to make love, pure, beautiful flower of love
If you want to make love you should tell that to my father
I want a big palace, pure, beautiful flower of love
I want a big palace with thirty-six balconies
Come to the window, pure, beautiful flower of love
Come to the window and there we will make love
The following are lyrics from a different, even older and more classic song but with similar ideas and words.
Oh fisherman of the wave, fi da lin (repeat)
Come and fish more here
With your nice boat
Sailing nicely
Fi da lin, lin, la
Oh fisherman of the wave, fi da lin (repeat)
Come and fish more here
What do you want me to fish for?
Fi da lin
My ring that has fallen off,
With your nice boat.
I’ll give you a hundred crowns, Fidelin
And this embroidered purse
With your beautiful boat
Or,
Come fish for my ring, which I have dropped into the sea.
(“The Fisherman on the Waves.” See the comments on Le Tre Sorelle, which is very similar in its story. Here the interesting part is the coy exchange between the flirting girl and the “impudent” young fisherman, who wants a kiss from her for finding her ring. Grade: A.)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Piemontesina Bella
Addio bei giorni passati,
Mia piccola amica ti devo lasciar,
Gli studi son già terminati
Abbiamo finito così disognar.
Lontano andrò, dove non so;
Parto col pianto nel cuor
Dammi l’ultimo bacio d’amor.
Refrain:
Non ti potrò scordare, piemontesina bella
Sarai la sola stella che brillerà per me
Ricordi quelle sere, passate al Valentino
Col biondo studentino
Che ti stringeva sul cuor?
Totina, il tuo allegro studente
Di un giorno lontano è adesso dottor.
Io curo la povera gente
Ma pure non riesco a guarire il mio cuor.
La gioventù non torna più
Quanti ricordi d’amor!
A Torino ho lasciato il mio cuor.
(Repeat refrain)
Rough translation:
Goodbye, beautiful days we spent.
My little friend, I must leave you,
My studies are already completed
So we have to end our dreams.
I will go far away, to where I do not know;
I’m leaving with tears in my heart
Give me a final kiss of love.
Refrain:
I won’t be able to forget you, beautiful Piedmont girl
You’ll be the only star that will shine for me.
Remember those evenings, going to Valentino Park
With the blond student
Whose heart you have gripped.
Totina, your cheerful student
Of a distant day is now a doctor.
I treat the poor people
But still I cannot heal my heart.
Youth never returns.
How many memories of love!
I have left my heart inTurin.
(Repeat refrain)
(“The Piemontese Beauty”. The young guy just became a medical doctor and will get sent to parts unknown, so he has to end his student fling with the girl from Turin. Grade: B+.)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Pinotta, La
O Pinotta bella Pinotta una grazia vorrei da te (or, cara Pinotta)
Dimmi Dimmi che grazia vuoi una notte a dormir con te (or, Dimmi pure)
(repeat each line, throughout)
Vieni vieni al mezzanotte quando mamma e papa non c’e (or, alle undici ore)
Mezzanotte son già suonate, O pinotta vien giù da me (or, Undici ore; giù da qua)
Sono scalze e in camiciola, dammi il tempo di revestir (barefoot; bodice, shift)
Non importa che tu ti vesta quando nuda tu piaci a me (or, tanto bionda)
Metti su la sua cara bianca quel che manca c’e lo con me
Metti su le scarpette rosa fate aposta per ben balar
Metti sui il coverto nero le quel forme belliz alzar
Metta in testa un ??cappellino piava secce ?? di porterò
E poi quando sarebbo for a un bacento io ti darò
?? El pinere che sta serrata ?? una ricorda ti lascerò
Grazie, grazie o mia Pinotta ?? fra gentani?? ritornerò.
Rough translation:
Oh Pinotta, beautiful Pinotta, I would like a favor from you.
Tell me you’ll grant me the favor of sleeping a night with you.
(repeat each line, throughout)
Come at midnight, when mom and dad aren’t around.
It’s midnight and they are already sleeping. Oh Pinotta, come down to me.
I am barefoot and in a camisole. Give me time to change clothes.
What you’re wearing is not important when I like you nude.
Put on your dear white one, what is lacking is being here with me.
Put on your pink shoes made for dancing.
Put on your black blanket, the one that looks good raised.
Put a little hat on your head to ?????????
And then when you come out I will give you a little kiss.
????????????? and I will leave you a remembrance.
Thank you, oh my Pinotta, ????? I will return.
(“Pinotta” [A girl’s name or nickname; “Little Pinecone”?, said to be a nickname for Giuseppina]. A lively ballad but repetitious if you do not know the words. Basically, the guy is trying to get the girl to come out when her parents are asleep. In one verse she says, “I’m barefoot and have on my PJs. Give me a minute to change clothes.” He says, “I don’t care what you are wearing – I want to see you naked.” Grade: B.)
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Plui Biel di Udin, El
E duc mi clamin Cont
No ai nie ce conta
O’ ai centmil morosis
O’ ai centimil morosis
E duc mi clamin Cont
No ai nie ce conta
O’ ai centmil morosis,
Dutis golosis (all anxious)
Di fa l’amôr cun me.
E jo no vuei nissune
O’ cerci la fortune
E jo no vuei nissune
O’ cerci la fortune
E jo no vuei nissune
O’ cerci la fortune
O’ cerci la fortune,
La fie di un marchês
Ch’e’ vedi un grum di bês, (who has lots of money)
Un grum di dote (a big dowry)
E jo no soi un pote (a jerk)
O’ fâs il marangon (carpenter)
Mi plâs il biel e il bon
Mi plâs il biel e il bon
E jo no soi un pote
O’ fâs il marangon
Mi plâs il biel e il bon
La biele ande (the latest syles)
Frutas tiraisi in bande (Boys, step aside)
Tiraisi ju il cjapiel (Take off your hats)
O’ soi il plui biel di Udin
O’ soi il plui biel di Udin
Frutas tiraisi in bande
Tiraisi ju il cjapiel
O’ soi il plui biel di Udin
Di Udin il plui biel
De puarte di Puscuel (the district of Porta Poscolle)
Rough translation:
Everyone calls me a Count,
But I am not one.
I have 100,000 girlfriends
I have 100,000 girlfriends
Everyone calls me a Count,
But I am not one.
I have 100,000 girlfriends
All anxious
To make love with me.
(same pattern below)
And I don’t want anybody
Or searching for fortune
Except the daughter of a marquis
Who has lots of money,
A big dowry.
And I am not a jerk
I work as a carpenter
I like the beautiful and the good
And the latest styles.
Boys, step aside,
Take off your hats
I’m the handsomest guy in Udine
The handsomest of Udine,
From the district of Porta Poscolle.
(“The Most Handsome Man in Udine”. The singer boasts of how he charms the ladies. This is in the Friulian language, from northeast of Venice. My paternal grandfather came from there (in the countryside near Pordenone). My father used to say that speakers from there like him could understand Spanish speakers, at least those speaking Castilian. The lyrics in this song tend to show that. For example, “ai” is similar to “hay” in Spanish, “soi” is similar to “soy”, and of course plural words end in “s”, all very different from standard Italian. And note that the “l” following “p” (as in “plui” and “plâs”) and “c” (as in “clamin”) is preserved/pronounced and has not changed to an “i” as in standard Italian. However, in other Friulian words, possibly because of influence from Venetian, the “l” and other consonants are lost at the end. Thus, “fagioli” is pronounced like “fazhoi”, “bigoli” becomes “bigoi” and, as in this song, “plus” has become “plui” (but not “più”). Grade: B+.)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Povera Emma, La
(Mia Cara Emma)
(First, the version by Fonola Band:)
O come mai, povera Emma
Sei già le nove, sei ancora a dormir?
Caro marito, mi sento male,
Mi sento male, un mal da morir’.
Se io morisi di questo male
Ti raccomando il mio tre figliolin
Al più piccino date del latte
Al gli altri due un ??pecchetto?? di pan.
Dopo tre mesi Emma l’è morta
Di un altra donna lui s’innamorò
Era una donna vile e crudele
Che maltrattava i suoi tre figliolin.
Al più piccino dava le botte (hits, blows)
Al gli altri due usava il baston (cudgel)
I tre piccin van sulla tomba
Dicendo, “Mamma ci tocca morir!” (it’s our turn to die)
Andate a casa mi picciolini
La vostra cena sarà preparà
A mezzanotte torna il marito
Trova la Emma che sta l’aspettar
O come mai, povera Emma
Tu sei venuta dal mondo di là
Io son venuta per quel’ingrata
Perchè maltratta i miei tre figliolin.
(Next, lyrics found on http://www.alpini.torino.it, {combined with some verses indicated in brackets found on http://www.italyworldclub.com})
O come mai, mi cara Emma
Son già le nove, sei ancora a dormir.
Mi sento male, mal da morire.
Ti raccomando i miei tre figliolin.
{Al più piccino date del latte
e agli altri due date la zuppa di pan}
Dopo tre mesi ch’Emma era morta
Di un’altra donna lui s’innamorò,
Di un’altra donna tanto crudele (or, bruta e crudele)
Che maltrattava i suoi tre figliolin.
Al più picciono dava le botte
Cogli altri due usava il baston;
Sulla sua tomba vanno piangendo, (or, i tre piccini vanno alla tomba)
Invocando: Ohi mamma, ci tocca morir! (or, gridando)
{Cari piccini tornate a casa
che troverete il mangiar preparà}
A mezzanotte torna il marito (or, Il suo marito tornato a casa)
Trova la Emma seduta al balcon.
{Oh come mai mia cara Emma
sei ritornata dal mondo di là}
“Nella mia casa sono tornata
per consolare i miei figlioli”.
{Son ritornata per quell’ingrata
che maltrattava i miei tre figliolin
Vattene pure mia cara Emma
che i tuoi piccini saran ben trattà
Io me ne vado marito ingrato
Faremo i conti nel mondo di là} (we’ll settle this in yonder world)
Rough translation:
(First, the version by Fonola Band:)
Oh what’s the matter, poor Emma,
It’s already 9 o’clock and you’re still sleeping?
Dear husband, I feel ill,
I feel sick, a fatal sickness.
If I should die of this illness
I commend to you my three little children
Give milk to the youngest
And some bread to the other two.
Three months after Emma died
He fell in love with another woman.
She was a vile and cruel woman
Who maltreated the three children.
She hit the youngest one
And used a stick on the other two.
The three little ones went to the tomb
Saying, “Mother, it’s out turn to die.”
Go back home, my little ones
Your supper will be prepared.
At midnight the husband returned
To find Emma waiting for him.
Oh why, poor Emma,
Have you come from the world beyond?
I’ve come back because of that ungrateful one.
Because she mistreats my three little kids.
(Next, lyrics found on http://www.alpini.torino.it {with additional verses in brackets from http://www.italyworld.com})
Oh what’s the matter, my dear Emma
It’s already 9 o’clock and you are still sleeping.
I feel sick, a fatal sickness.
I commend to you my three little children.
{Give milk to the youngest
And soup with bread to the other two}
Three months after Emma died
He fell in love with another woman,
Another woman who was so cruel,
Who mistreated the three children.
She beat the youngest
And used a stick on the others.
They went to the tomb, crying,
Calling out, “Oh, mother, we have to die.!”
{Dear little ones, return home,
You will find your dinner ready.}
At midnight the husband returned home
And found Emma seated on the balcony
{Oh, why, my dear Emma
Heve you returned from the world beyond?}
“I have come back to my home
to console my children”.
{I have come back for that ungrateful one
Who has mistreated my three children}
Look, my dear Emma,
Your little ones have been well-treated.
I am going, ungrateful husband.
We’ll settle this in yonder world.
(“Poor Emma”. She dies and her husband remarries, to a cruel woman who mistreats Emma’s three kids. Emma comes back from the dead to chastise her husband. Grade: B.)
######################################
Bluefish
While you’re at the shore crabbing, you might as well go fishing, too. We used to catch flounder and weakfish (and too many sea robins) but for me THE New Jersey fish is good old oily bluefish.
Here is Mom Gelsie Mazzer’s recipe for sauce for both broiled or baked fish, with ingredients for roughly a 3 1/2-pound fish, after it is cleaned. So adjust the ingredients depending on the size of the fish.
Sauce for Baked or Broiled Fish
Ingredients:
½ cup oil
½ cup white wine
2 thinly-sliced onions
½ cup tomatoes, fresh or canned
½ lb. mushrooms, sliced
Peas, 1 can or 1 box frozen, or fresh (lima beans are a good substitute)
½ cup minced parsley
1 clove garlic, minced
A few basil leaves
1 tbsp. dried oregano
3-4 medium potatoes or the equivalent in small potatoes
Directions:
Combine ingredients (except for the potatoes), and apply to fish as instructed below.
Separately from the sauce, parboil some small potatoes to put around the fish.
Broiled Bluefish Directions:
Grease the bottom of a baking dish with a little oil. Split the fish and lay it in the pan, skin side down. Season with salt and pepper and put in the sauce and potatoes, around and on top of the fish. (Or, if you do not use the sauce, add thinly-sliced tomatoes and onions on top of the fish.) Dot liberally with butter or margarine.
Broil on a low shelf in the oven about 25 minutes, without turning.
Baked Bluefish Directions (based on a 5 lb. fish):
Grease the baking pan and put the fish in whole. Season with salt and pepper and add the other ingredients (the above sauce recipe, or just thinly-sliced onions and tomatoes). Dot with some butter or margarine. Bake in a moderate oven (375 degrees or so) about 1 hour.
Or,
Bake in a 300-degree oven and when the fish reads 150 degrees on a meat thermometer, it should be done.
You can also cook bluefish on a grill:
Wrap the fish in foil, and prick two or three holes in the foil to allow steam to escape. Bring the charcoal to the same heat as for a steak. Place the fish on the grill and cook 10-12 minutes on each side.
#####################################
Northern Songs “Q
Quando Canta Il Suo Alfredo
Quando canta il suo Alfredo
La sua casa è tutta in festa
La Marietta a la finestra
Per vedere l’Alfredo a passar.
Chorus:
Fuggi da me, non star più a pensar
L’amor con te non la voglio più far
(repeat the two lines)
È partito il mio Alfredo
Senza dir nemmeno addio
È partito l’amor mio
Io son qui sola a sospirar.
(Chorus)
Rough translation:
When her Alfredo sings
Her house is all festive.
Marietta is at the window
To see Alfredo pass by.
Chorus:
Run away from me, don’t stay to think
I don’t want to make love with you any more
(repeat the two lines)
My Alfred has left
Without even saying goodbye
My love has gone
I am here alone sighing.
(Chorus)
(“When Your Alfredo Sings”. All the house celebrates, and Marietta waits for him at her window. A lively waltz. Grade: B.)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Quando Mi Bacia Teresa
Senza corrente non marcia il motore
Senza Teresa non vive il mio cuore
Quando mi manca che nòia che guai (nòia = weariness, ennui)
Manca corrente motore ??travai?? (overworked, distressed??)
Solo Teresa godere mi fa
Quando suo bacio mi dà
Chorus:
Mi sentire de l’amore
Quando mi bacia Teresa
Mi sento il fuoco nel cuore
Quando mi bacia Teresa
Mi vuol godere la vita
Io una Teresa non ha
Ma può trovar ma deve cantar
Quando mi bacia Teresa
Quando a passeggio conduco Teresa
Sono ammirato di grande sorpresa
chi son dispera, di smania, di muore
per un suo languido bacio d’amore
Io godo dal mondo. Sapete perchè?
Teresa è tutta per me
(Chorus)
Ogni bambine che piace
Una Teresa sarà
Per farle onor
Cantiamole in cuor
Quando mi bacia Teresa
Rough translation:
A motor can’t run without current
My heart can’t live without Theresa
When she’s not around, what weariness and woe
Without a currrent a motor has trouble
Only Theresa delights me,
When she gives me a kiss.
Chorus:
I feel love
When Theresa kisses me.
I feel a fire in my heart
When Theresa kisses me.
I can enjoy life.
When Theresa is not with me
And I can find her
I have to sing,
When Theresa kisses me.
When I go for a walk I take Theresa
I am admired with great astonishment.
It drives them into despair, to madness, to death.
By one languid kiss of love
I enjoy the world. Do you know why?
Because Theresa is all mine.
(Chorus)
Every little girl
Wants to be like Theresa –
To honor her
I sing to her in my heart
When Theresa kisses me.
(“When Teresa Kisses Me”. She sets my heart on fire. Without her, life is like an electric motor without a current. A lovely waltz. Grade: B.)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Quel Mazzolin Di Fiori
Quel mazzolin di fiori
Che vien dalla montagna
(repeat first two lines of verse, throughout)
e guarda ben che no ‘l se bagna (or, e bada ben)
che lo voglio regalar
(repeat last two lines, throughout)
(Same pattern as above:)
Lo voglio regalare
Percheè l’è un bel mazzetto
Lo voglio dare al mio moretto
Questa sera quando ‘l vien
Sta sera quando ‘l viene
Sarà una brutta sera
È perchè sabato di sera
Lu non l’è vegnù da me
Non l’è vegnù da me
L’è andà dalla Rosina
E perchè mi son poverina
Mi fa pianger e sospirar
Mi fa pianger e sospirare
Sul letto dei lamenti
E cosa mai diran le genti
Cosa mai diran di me?
Diran che son tradita
Tradita nell’onore
E a me mi piange il core
E per sempre piangerà.
Next, the chorus for the “lively” version melody:
Oi li, Oi la, sta fermo col man (a steady hand)
Oi li, Oi la, sta fermo col man
(or: Alpin, va pian, sta fermo côe man)
And, a final verse:
Abbandonato il primo
Abbandonà il secondo
Abbandono tutto il mondo
E non mi marito più
(repeat last two lines)
Rough translation:
That little bunch of flowers
That came from the mountain
(repeat first two lines of verse, throughout)
Watch out that you don’t get them wet
Since I want to give them as a gift
(repeat last two lines, throughout)
(Same pattern as above:)
I want to give it as a gift
Because it is a pretty bouquet
I want to give it to my boyfriend
When he comes this evening.
This evening when he comes
Will be an ugly evening
Because Saturday night
He didn’t come to me
He didn’t come to me
He went to Rosina
And because I am miserable
It makes me cry and sigh
I cry and sigh
On my bed of laments
And what will the people say?
Whatever will they say about me?
They will say that I have been betrayed
My honor has been betrayed
And for me, my heart cries
And will cry forever.
Next, the chorus for the “lively” version melody:
Oi li, oi la, keep a steady hand.
(or: Alpine soldier, go slow, keep a steady hand)
And, a final verse:
The first one left me,
Abandoned by the second
Everyone has left me
And I will never get married again.
(“That Little Bunch of Flowers”. A long (maybe tedious, if you don’t know the words) ballad, but this is THE northern Italian song. We hear it at every picnic, dinner dance, etc. Call and response. The “lively” version, is not the common one. Grade: A.) (Without my childhood memories of this song I would not have gotten interested in Italian folksongs.)
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Quel Momento (tru la la la)
(see also Maria Giuana; same tune)
Quel momento che sto per morire
Vuoi che indaghi dal bon vin da ber, oi la
Vuoi che indaghi dal bon vin bottigl’ oi la
Tru la la la
E quei quattro che porta via mi
Vuoi che sian tutt’ ciuc’ anche loro, oi la
Vuoi che sian tutt’ ciuc’ anche loro, oi la
Tru la la la
Le candele che a me porterano
Vuoi che sian bottiglie vin bon, oi la
Vuoi che sian bottiglie vin bon, oi la
Tru la la la
E quei fiori che a me porterano
Vuoi che siano foglie di vite, oi la
Vuoi che siano foglie di vite, oi la
Tru la la la
Rough translation:
When I am going to die
You’ll want to check out some good wine to drink, oi la
You’ll want to check out some bottles of good wine, oi la
Tru la la la
And those four who will carry me out – –
You’ll want to be as completely drunk as them, oi la
You’ll want to be as completely drunk as them, oi la
Tru la la la
The candles that they will bring in to me – –
You’ll wish they could be bottles of good wine.
And those flowers that they will bring me – –
You’ll want them to be grapevine leaves.
(“That Moment” [when I am about to die]. Don’t bring me flowers, etc. Bring me wine. And make sure that the four guys carrying me are drunk. (Same tune as Maria Guiana, above, but livelier. Grade: A.)
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Quelle Stradelle
(Qui Comando Io)
(Lyrics found on http://www.dalmenweb.it)
Quelle stradelle che tu mi fai far, (obsolete term for alleys or lanes)
Cara Rosina, cara Rosina
Quelle stradelle che tu mi fai far,
Cara Rosina, le devi pagar.
Chorus:
E qui comando io
E questa è casa mia:
Ogni dì voglio sapere,
Ogni dì voglio sapere;
E qui comando io
E questa è casa mia:
Ogni dì voglio sapere
Chi viene e chi va. (or, chi va e chi vien’)
Devi pagarle col sangue e dolor
Finchè la luna, finchè la luna (as long as, while, until)
Devi pagarle col sangue e dolor
Finchè la luna, non cambia color.
(Chorus)
Quando la luna la cambia color
Vieni Rosina, vieni Rosina (or, vieni quel ora; or, vieni che l’ora)
Quando la luna la cambia color
Vieni che è l’ora di fare l’amor.
(Chorus)
Rough translation:
These alleys that you make me go on,
Dear Rosina, dear Rosina,
These alleys that you make me go on,
Dear Rosina, you need to pay for them.
Chorus:
And here I’m in charge
And this is my house
Every day I want to know
Every day I want to know
And here I’m in charge
And this is my house
Every day I want to know
Who comes and who goes.
You must pay for them with blood and sorrow
As long as the moon, as long as the moon
You must pay for them with blood and sorrow
As long as the moon doesn’t change color
(Chorus)
When the moon changes color
Come, Rosina, come, Rosina
When the moon changes color
Come, it’s the time to make love.
(Chorus)
(“Those Lanes”; the alternate title is: “I’m in charge here!”. As explained to me by Maria of Allexperts.com, this song is about a jealous husband who is tired out from following his wife up and down the little streets of the town, to keep an eye on her. He wants her to know who is in charge. He doesn’t seem to mind so much, as he is waiting for the moon to change color, the time for making love. Grade: B.)
######################################
Baccala
We enjoyed baccala prepared by my grandmother Angelina Mazzer, by her cousin Celia Menegus and by our family friend Regina DeMarco. I do not have their recipes, but I have been making baccala for a few years now based on what I can remember about their dishes.
I usually make two dishes when I prepare baccala, a “salad” with garlic and oil, and a milk-based stew with potatoes. So I divide the codfish for the two dishes. Not necessarily half-and-half. It depends what I am in the mood for eating more of at the time. So, the quantities of ingredients below are very rough, depending on the weight of the codfish you buy and how much you want to make of each dish.
One final note: Codfish may soon be an endangered species, so try to get it from a sustainable source, or just skip this, and keep the taste of baccala in your memory.
Preparing the dried codfish.
If you have a lot of money you can buy skinless and boneless dried codfish. If not, you will have to remove (unless you like the skin; I don’t) the skin and bones when you can, after soaking or while cooking.
In any case, soak the dried codfish in cold water (you can keep the bowl(s) in the fridge) for 24-48 hours, changing the water about 3-4 times a day. The fish should be soft. I really believe this is a hit-or-miss process. Usually after the soaking the fish is not salty at all, but sometimes when I taste the dish when it is almost cooked, it still is too salty for my taste. (That is when I add more raw potatoes cut into big pieces to the cooking baccala, remove them after the cooking, and hope for the best.)
Ken’s Baccala Salad
Ingredients (based on a 2 to 2 ¼ lb. piece of cod, before soaking):
½ cup or more of finely chopped parsley
¾ cup olive oil
4 cloves garlic, minced
Pepper (and maybe even salt) to taste
Options:
6 tbsp. lemon juice (or vinegar, if preferred)
½ tsp. hot red pepper flakes
Directions:
Drain and rinse the soaked cod. Place the fish in a large saucepan of cold water and bring it to a simmer. Let it simmer for 10 minutes. If you cook it too much it will become tough. Remove the fish from the heat and allow it to cool. When it cools off a bit you can then take off any skin that did not come off during the boiling, and remove any bones. The codfish meat should come apart in flakes. If the flakes are too big, break them up
Mix together the garlic, parsley, seasonings (and lemon juice or vinegar, if using), and beat this into the oil. Pour the mixture over the codfish, garnish with more parsley and serve.
However, I usually marinate this. If you want to do that, put the cooked codfish and the mixture in a container that can be sealed, and stir it or shake it up every few hours. This can keep in the refrigerator for several days.
Serve as a side-dish salad, or with fresh or baked polenta.
Ken’s “Venetian”-style Baccala Stew
Ingredients:
This is based on about 2 pounds of dried baccala; adjust proportions if the fish is bigger or smaller than that.
Soaked codfish
½ cup olive oil (or less), for sautéing
1 carrot, chopped small
1 celery stalk, chopped small
1 onion, chopped fine
3-4 potatoes, sliced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 to 1 ½ cups milk
½ cup white wine
1 small can of tomato paste (or 1 or more cups of tomato sauce, if you want this
more tomato-y)
½ cup finely chopped parsley
Black pepper to taste
Sauté the onions, carrot and celery in hot oil until the onion is translucent. Add the garlic and codfish and brown it, with medium heat, not very long. Add the wine and cook for 1 minute. Add the milk and potatoes. When this comes to a boil, simmer and add the tomato paste, parsley and pepper (if desired). The codfish should break into flakes. Break up any large pieces you do not want, and remove skin (unless you want that for flavor) and bones, if any, while this is simmering. Cook on medium for about 20 minutes. Add water or milk as needed. Ideally the sauce will be a nice pink, and not too thick or thin.
Serve with polenta.
Baccala note: Everyone I know always makes these types of dishes with dried, salted codfish. But our health food store sells frozen chunks of codfish, and of course the fish market has fresh codfish (at least for now). Is there any reason why fresh or frozen cannot be used? I don’t know. That sure would save a lot of time and trouble with the soaking, and eliminate the guessing game about the fish being too salty.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Eel
Once or twice a year, certainly for Good Friday, my grandmother Angelina made eel, in a stew. I do not have the recipe. Any good suggestions? Anyway, the eel stew was very good, but I prefer eel Japanese-style. For one thing, the eel is filleted, not cut in slices, so you don’t have to deal with the bones. You can get Japanese-style eel (ready to eat in the food court, or if you want to prepare it at home, from the supermarket) at Mitsuwa in Edgewater, NJ.
#######################################
Northern Songs “R”
Ranza, La
(Lyrics are in the Lombard language, as sung by the group I Picett del Grenta; all of their songs are great. And many thanks to Sr. Diego Pirovano of that group for providing the words in the Brianza dialect that I couldn’t make out in the final verse, and for translating that verse into standard Italian. However, there still are one or two verses that I can’t pick out. I would appreciate help from you viewers.)
Em ranzà tüt el dì süi muntagn,
Ven la nocc e dai noster campagn,
Al paes portem giò di car pié
De triföi e de menta de de fen!
El nost car pien de fen quant che’l pasa
Che prufüm de pertüt che’l me lasa.
L’è l’udur del nost fen gli sci bun
Che’l da fiä che’l me slarga i pulmun.
Refrain:
E ranza e ranza e ranza
Tüta d’argent lüsenta
In mez ai pra, tra i fiur
L’è lüstra e l’è contenta (or, cuntenta)
E ranza e ranza e ranza
La turna a cà a la sira,
Sül gerlo e prüfümada (or, gerlu)
L’è lüstra tüt i ur.
L’è l’udù pusèè bon che ghe sia
E cul sù e cunt l’Ave Maria
Coi campan che incumincia a sunà
Ghe dem dent tocc insem a cantà
I tusan sia biondina e tenciuna
Con i fior i fan so la curuna
E sul car ghe dan su tocc la vus
Dai senté ghe rispunt el murus.
(Refrain)
Rough translation:
We scythe all day on the mountain
When night comes we go back to our own fields
We carry back carts packed full
Of clover, mint and hay.
And when our carts so full of hay pass by
The smell pervades everywhere and stays with me
It is the smell of our hay so good
That fills my lungs.
Refrain:
And scythe and scythe and scythe
All bright silver
In the midst of the meadow, among the flowers
It is lustrous and I am content.
And scythe and scythe and scythe
Returning home in the evening
On the perfumed basket
It shines all day.
It is the best smell there is
And with the sun and with the Ave Maria
It is the smell of our hay so good
That fills my lungs.
(Refrain)
(“The Scythe”. [La ranza would be la falce in standard Italian.] As explained on an Italian website: “This is a typical song that recounts the lives of the farmers who went from sunrise to sunset in the fields, with ox-drawn carts and ranza scythes to cut the grass that was used for livestock maintenance. In the evening, on the way back to their farms, the wagons left the good smell of freshly-cut grass and hay all over the town.” I should add that typically, at least in the north, the farmers had their own private fields near the village, but the meadows further up the mountains were communally grazed (in summer) and communally cut. Grade: B+.)
++++++++++++++++++
Reggio Emilia
(Quando saremo a Reggio Emilia; L’amarezza delle Mondine)
As sung on Canto popolari italiani, Vol. 5
Quando saremo a Reggio Emilia
Al me moros al sarà in piasa (sounds like “murus” and “piazza”)
Bella mia sei arrivata
Bella mia sei arrivata
Quando saremo a Reggio Emilia
Al me moros al sarà in piasa
Bella mia sei arrivata
Dimmi un po’ come la và
Di salute la mi va bene
Le borsette quasi vuote
E di cuor siam malcontente
E di cuor siam malcontente
Di salute la mi va bene
Le borsette quasi vuote
E di cuor siam malcontente
D’aver tanto lavorà
Quando saremo a Reggio Emilia
I creditur ignar incuntra (sounds like “i credituri tiran incuntra”)
Mundaris fora la bursa (sounds like “fuera” or “fura”)
Mundaris fora la bursa
Quando saremo a Reggio Emilia
I creditur ignar incuntra
Mundaris fora la bursa
Ca vuluma ves pagà
Rough translation:
When we are in Reggio Emilia
My love will be in the plaza
My dear you have arrived,
Tell me a little how it goes with you
As for health, I am fine
Our purses are almost empty
And our hearts are discontented
From having worked so much
When we are in Reggio Emilia
We run into the creditors
Who order us to open our purses
Because they want to be paid
(“Reggio Emilia” is the name of a town in the Emilia-Romagna region. The alternate title, “L’amarezza delle Mondine” translates as “the bitterness of the weeders”. It seems that they are back in town after a season of contract work in the rice fields, with little to show for it. Grade: C+.)
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Ricordati della Bruna
(Quelle Liete Sere)
(First, the lyrics sung by Fonola Band)
Ti ricordi quelle sere
Quando stadi vicino a me (??stati??)
E le carezze che mi facevi
Erano tutte passa come te (repeat last two lines)
Le letterine che mi mandavi
Erano scritte del tuo falso amor
E le promesse che mi facevi
Erano tutte false come a te (repeat last two lines)
E tu non vedi che il mio cuore piange
Non me lo fare soffrir così
Vorreti bene e potesti amare
Fammi godere la felicità
Ma io ti auguro una buona fortuna
In compagnia d’un altro amor
Però ricordati della tua bruna
Perchè ti ama e ti vuol bene ancor
(Next, lyrics found on http://www.corovalsella.it)
Non ti ricordi quelle liete sere
Che tu passavi accanto a me
Quelle promesse che mi facevi
Eran bugiarde e false come te
Eran bugiarde e false come te.
Le letterine che tu mi mandavi
Erano piene d’un falso amor
E tutti i baci che tu m’hai dato
Sulle mie labbra vile traditor
Sulle mie labbra vile traditor
Ora ti auguro buona fortuna
In compagnia d’un altro amor
Però ricordati della tua bruna
Che ti amava e la ti ama ancor
Che ti amava e la ti ama ancor.
Rough translation:
(First, the lyrics sung by Fonola Band)
Do you remember those nights
When you were close to me
And the caresses that you gave me?
They are all gone, like you. (repeat last two lines; same pattern below)
The letters that you sent me
Were written from your false love.
And the promises that you made me
Were all false, like you.
You don’t see that my heart is crying.
Don’t make me suffer like this.
I wish you well and that you can love.
Let me enjoy happiness.
But I wish you good luck
Together with another love.
But remember your brunette girl,
Who still loves you and wants you.
(Next, lyrics found on http://www.corovalsella.it)
Don’t you remember those happy evenings
That you spent with me?
Those promises that you made me
Were lying and false like you
Were lying and false like you.
The letters that you sent me
Were full of a false love.
And all the kisses you gave me
On my lips, you vile traitor.
Now I wish you good luck
Together with another love
But remember your brunette girl
Who loved you and still does.
(“Remember the Brunette”. Despite being abandoned, she wishes her lover well, as long as he remembers her. Grade: C.)
##################################
Chicken
Note on roast or barbecue chicken
There are many recipes for roast chicken, and our family prepared it in the usual way, with no surprises. Same with barbecued or grilled chicken, although my Dad used little or no barbecue sauce. However, we had a beautiful, old sage bush in the garden and we always used plenty of fresh leaves from it, stuffing the leaves wherever you could on the bird, for both roast and barbecued chicken. Highly recommended.
Quel Mazzolin di Canti 