We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

P​ł​a​ć​, ch​ł​opie!

from B​ę​dą bi​ć​! by Hańba!

/

lyrics

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

credits

from B​ę​dą bi​ć​!, released August 25, 2017

license

tags

about

Hańba! Kraków, Poland

post-folk-punk / folkcore from Poland

shows

contact / help

Contact Hańba!

Streaming and
Download help

Shipping and returns

Redeem code

Report this track or account

If you like Hańba!, you may also like: