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B​ę​dą bi​ć​!

by Hańba!

Za nic 02:43
For Nothing war gave us freedom, brotherhood, democracy but war forgot to give us bread to eat and for bread was the war for bread were the battles for bread death in the trenches and prayers in the churches and for freedom was the war for freedom rang the bells and millions of young heads layed down in the ground but war forgot top put down martyred, saint freedom nailed to the cross of torment freedom gave us tons of tin heroes and put loads of tin medals in our pockets no way to melt it down no way to sell it out to overcome poverty to overcome one's hunger we walk and we jingle with cheap, tin medals and we cannot buy a meal for them for nothing translated by Mateusz Nowicki
The Song Of The Young Fascists by Leon Pasternak when there's a gun by your leg and you're armed up to teeth play the march on pavements and order to beat the drums 'cause rest is nonsense hip hip hurray when there's a time, strike but straight between the eyes let the steel crush the bones until your foe bleeds when there's time to break the statues it's eager to break them 'cause order came from the fuhrer or the duce but when the nonsense is revealed beat the blacks or the jews hey, mates, forward march there's only starch in potatoes a bloody, greasy borscht we eat today for lunch grab one's throat, like that put his mug by the wall bend him with the knee you're the master now and when the blood runs out for the disciplined hearts drink the blood from others and woe to the infidels when you will bite the dust there would be time to dream meanwhile shut your mouth and whatch your own shadow every corner is covered there's the enemy, the enemy, enemy translated by Mateusz Nowicki
Wojenka 02:43
War by Lucjan Szenwald A fatherland without a soldier is like beheader without a sword So they take the flower of youth for many years now And when the workers’ blood squirts under heavy tanks In banks and stocks hallways joyful voices sing: War! War! Music sets the march War! War! Money flows in streams Kill the enemy in the name of God Give your young life for someone’s pocket In his office a manager eats a tasty dinner Merry he is, as brave army he owns And when the poor worker will rot in the trenches The manager earns his money and gets obese On Pilsudski Square the buglers blow the trumpets The Polish Chief of State is inspecting his army And when someone leaves a silly flower on your grave You, oh unknown dead man shall sign along the song War! War!... They’ll bury you in a cosy, collective grave Oh, what a jolly fellowship of different corpses And when the passionate wave will push you in a frenzy love You shall spent a night with nurse’s remains War! War!... translated by Mateusz Nowicki
An Armed Pole by Ziemowit Szczerek Strong will the Polish be If there would be no war Armed up up his cap If only Hitler won’t invade us Plenty of colonies we’ll have If only we don’t get hit by Stalin Tropical fertile soil Eagle on a hats of cork There will be URs, there will be planes TP-98 tanks Everyone will dread our power If we don’t get hit by Stalin! There will be a colonial legion And ebony-skinned cavalry Everything will be just lovely If the Hitler won’t invade us Great Intermarum awaits Polish eagle upon Europe From Bulgaria to Nordkapp If the Hitler won’t attack We don’t need to be liked by no one They will tremble like a milksop They only need to dread our power If we don’ get hit by Stalin! translated by Mateusz Nowicki
Racyje 01:33
Rights by Andrzej Zagajewski Fear in entire town someone runs, scream echoes they order new coup they will fight each other come on, look! riots and demonstrations i have a right, i got all the rights there's rumble on the streets there's marching crowd in sight it's the jews from the Bund encouraging for revolt they plan new plot here's a scream in the distance 'I have no money to eat nor to drink' the police is gathering, it's time to stop, it's time to run rubber batons are swinging, an army enters - shots are fired the crowd screams, lower your heads, put your hands up, stay by the wall come on, look! translated by Mateusz Nowicki
Pay, Yokel! by Lucjan Szenwald On paths between arable fields In villages where hunger dwells There bailiff walked with police And knocked on the peasants' doors The winter grabs a snow from a sheet And sows it on the meadows And the voice in the blizzard calls: pay, yokel, pay! Pay for the lot suited just for your grave clog your starved face and make money out of your blood for swine not fed for plow, for vat for doorstep, for chimney smoke - pay, yokel, pay! The landowner holds his grounds He ships whole woods to sell The burden of the taxes Bows down our poor necks Nothing to wrap our feet Will we sleep on a snow? The state ruins us, and floods pay, scoundrel, pay! The bailiff haunts the hamlets The gray, blamished face strangles us. There's a blue force For the disobedient ones The winter walks on plains And weaves a shirt from snow The voice in blizzard cries: Pay, yokel, pay! They told us: the land is yours again they told us socage time is over They know not how much effort one can take They know not how much effort is in golden spikes They know not what can peasant's scythe can do translated by Mateusz Nowicki
A+B 01:49
A+B by Mateusz Nowicki Do you prefer hammer or a sickle? Are you from here or from outside? Is it shovel or a rifle in your hand? You want to sow or to kill? Diversity is a natural thing Solidarity – is important Because you live under one roof With both smart and the scum! translated by Mateusz Nowicki
Żyda bić 01:35
Beat The Jew! based on two Julian Tuwim's poems combined together by Andrzej Zagajewski They will beat – the Poles and the Russians They will beat – sunny Slavs They will beat – peasants and burghers Quietly, men, in turns! In turns! In turns! Queitly, people, in turns! They will beat – lieutenants They will beat – their adherents They will beat – peasants and burghers Quietly, men, in turns! In turns! In turns! Queitly, people, in turns! They will beat, they need to beat! Beat the Jew! Until one takes his pitchfork Shouting – my time has come! Onward, thieves, scumbags and bandits Run or I’ll pierce the holes in you! translated by Mateusz Nowicki
O Berezie 02:17
In Bereza If you wish to know How in Bereza it was No sitting, no lying – forward march! Wake up whistle at 4 o'clock They took us up from our pallets Second whistle – rally – forward march! No jokes here, no fun The commanders are dabsters In torturing, in tormenting – forward march! Sticks are swang during exercise everyone counts silently in mind: Twenty Thirty Fourty Fifty Sixty Seventy Eighty Truncheon hits! Forward march! translated by Mateusz Nowicki
To Eat And To Drink by Władysław Broniewski I have no money to eat nor to drink One ought to work to exist If there is a decent job I’ll join the masons’ labour To eat and to drink ke the trowel in hand, brother You’ll work earnestly Walls and roofs shall emerge The great prison will be built They will give me food and drink In this prison I will rot! I don’t want no bolts and bars I will stray far, far away I shall take the iron hammer And join blacksmiths No bolts and bars Hit the hammer with us, brother There’s a work on a chain Tempered in fire it will be Your shackles shall be made of it Executioner waits for my chain I will carry it for many years What shall I do, where should I go? Shall I eat from hunger a stone It is destined for me to be Unemployment, famine and cell Oh, brother, where should I go? translated by Mateusz Nowicki
Empty Planes by Jerzy Jurandot War? Bring it on. We’ll be delighted. It does scare anyone no more A tank will fight with another tank A cannon with cannon All without maning But progress, but man's genius? Even today an empty plane could fly One can operate ship remotely today and in ten years? Empty planes will fight each other Empty ship will ravage on torpedo ship But man? what does a man do? everyone's poisoned anyway translated by Mateusz Nowicki
Fresh And Shiny by Julian Tuwim Just as a golden sunbeam Hits my windows I get up, fresh and shiny Shouting anti-state slogan I immerse, up to my eyes In joyful moral filth And so I sincerely disparage to God, to fatherland and humanity I communize, for an hour I spill the spirit, and then Slander a little bit Or blasphem, if it’s holiday I get back to my home, content Light as a little birdy In my quiet apartment Printing machine awaits I print and print Lovely green dollars Commies leaflets Pornographic booklets translated by Mateusz Nowicki


Mass strikes of peasants and workers, violently suppressed by police and military, ghetto benches and pogroms of Jewish communities, secret schemes behind the scenes of politics and the menace of war over Europe... welcome to 1937.

Masowe wystąpienia chłopskie i robotnicze krwawo tłumione przez policję i wojsko, getta ławkowe i nienawiste ataki na żydowskie miasteczka, zakulisowe rozgrywki na szczytach sanacyjnej władzy oraz widmo nadciągającej nad Europę wojennej katastrofy… witaj w roku 1937.


released August 25, 2017


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Hańba! Kraków, Poland

Zbuntowana orkiestra podwórkowa / Folk Punk from 1930-40's Poland


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