Retro-Songteksten: Evergreens, Classics, Old-Time Favourites, Hits Uit Onze Jeugd
Dit blog (met dank aan seniorennet) is enkel voor NIET-commerciële doeleinden. Alle songteksten zijn uitsluitend eigendom van hun respectievelijke copyright eigenaars; dus ga de muziek kopen die je mooi vindt, zo steun je de artiest.
NON-profit, non-commercial blog, to help preserve the songs of our youth; hence for entertainment only. All lyrics are the copyright of their respective owners; you are encouraged to go buy their music.
Era hora de acordar Que ainda tinha Tinha muito que fazer Melodia pra cantar Poesia pra viver E pensar que foi tanta Poesia que eu tive
Era hora de acordar Tinha um mundo pra aprender Tem às vezes que brigar Pra tristeza não vencer A vontade de dançar E a criança pra nascer Mala grande pra arrumar Vinho branco pra esquecer
Petit Composer(s): Guy Thomas Performer(s): Jean Ferrat
Petit mon dangereux pirate Les pieds nus dans le caniveau Mon matelot qui carapate Après tes voiliers tes vaissaux Mon amateur de confitures Je pourrais ronchonner bientôt Réglementer tes aventures Mettre du lest à tes bateaux
Petit mon voyou mon apache Mon amoureux du fil de l'eau Je pourrais friser ma moustache Et t'inviter dans mon bureau
Petit qui sur les bancs d'l'école A toujours l'air d'un étranger Qui comprends pas le protocole La bête noire du surgé Le blâmé du conseil de classe Celui qui saura pas nager Dans la société des rapaces Et des gangsters autorisés
Petit mon malheureux potache Mon amoureux du fil de l'eau Je pourrais friser ma moustache Et te reprocher tes zéros
Petit mon dangereux gauchiste Mon enragé mon anarcho Qui me trouve trop légaliste Et pour tout dire un peu coco Qui trouve nos combats fadasses Qui voudrait détruire illico Les injustices dégueulasses En embauchant le sirocco
Petit mon voyou mon apache Mon amoureux du fil de l'eau Je pourrais friser ma moustache Je pourrais freiner ton galop
Oui mais quand j'pense à tes Socrate A tes cornacs à tes mentors Y'a de quoi me couper les pattes Y'a pas d'quoi jouer les cadors C'est vrai qu'elle a triste figure Cette planete où nous vivons Ça pue la haine et la torture La guerre et la bombe à neutrons
Ah vivre un monde un peu moins vache Un peu plus libre un peu plus beau Petit mon voyou mon apache Mon amoureux du fil de l'eau
Non Andare Più Lontano First performance by: Claudio Villa - 1967
Amore amore non andare più lontano il mondo non è quello dei tuoi sogni la gente non è come pensi tu Amore amore non andare più lontano e stringimi le mani per capire che io posso piangere per te
Al tuo paese la terra è sempre umida di nebbia e le persone sono tutte uguali non hanno tanti sogni come te io le ho guardato non hanno neanche il pane per campare non hanno niente ma si sanno amare e allora sono ricche di più di te
Amore amore non andare più lontano il mondo non è quello dei tuoi sogni la gente non è come pensi tu Amore amore non andare più lontano e stringimi le mani per capire che io posso piangere per te Amore!
Amore amore non andare più lontano e stringimi le mani per capire che io posso piangere per te Amor, amor, amor!
Petit Composer(s): Pascal Arroyo; Bernard Lavilliers Performer(s): Bernard Lavilliers
Un enfant, avec un fusil trop grand Un enfant, marche lentement, à pas hésitants Au milieu du sang et du silence, et du silence
Un enfant, mais apparemment c'est plus un enfant Depuis très longtemps, trop longtemps, trop longtemps
Bientôt dix ans, t'as jamais joué au voleur Au gendarme qui a peur, à l'insouciance Petit, tu devrais regarder les filles Et voir dans leurs yeux qui brillent des valses lentes Tu vois dans leurs yeux des éclairs de feux Béton déchiré par les barbelés Et de temps en temps du cristal de sang Quand vas-tu mourir?
Un enfant, avec un fusil trop grand Un enfant, mais apparemment c'est plus un enfant Peut tuer comme un grand, comme à la guerre évidemment
Bientôt dix ans, il y a des pays tranquilles Et des jardins dans les villes, et de l'argent Petit, tu sais pas jouer aux billes Tu revends des balles en cuivre, pour le moment Tu vis au milieu des éclairs de feux Béton déchirés par le barbelés Et de temps en temps du cristal de sang Quand vas-tu mourir?
Un enfant, un enfant trop vieux, un enfant trop dur Un enfant bien évidemment peut tuer comme un grand Et comme c'est la guerre, fait sa ronde, fait sa ronde
Et dans dix ans, si jamais y a plus l'enfer Si jamais y a plus le fer, le feu, le sang Petit, tu raccrocheras ton fusil Comme un cauchemar qu'on oublie, apparemment Petit, tu joueras peut-être au voleur Et les gendarmes auront peur de l'insolence Petit, tu feras danser les filles Pour voir dans leurs yeux qui brillent des valses lentes Mais au fond des yeux, des éclairs de feux Béton déchiré par les barbelés Et de temps en temps du cristal de sang Que vas-tu devenir?
When Peter the Miller went unto the fair Young Paul, very downcast, met with him there "What's wrong?" Peter cried. "I'm in love" said Paul "And terribly troubled I am with it all Though the maid, she is willing and ready to wed Yet her father's as crusty as home-made bread And he swears that wedded we never shall be Oh what would you do, if you were me? What would you do, what would you do What would you do, if you were me?"
Well said Peter the Miller, "When I were young Such crusty old fathers could go and get hung I'd choose a dark night, if she didn't say nay Slip an arm round her waist and I'd up and away I'll help 'ee, me lad, and tonight if you'd care Why, I'll lend 'ee me trap and me old grey mare Make off with thee lass, lad, that's what I'd do That's what I'd do, if I were you That's what I'd do, that's what I'd do That's what I'd do, if I were you"
Well, when Peter the Miller got home that night No log in the fire, in the window no light But where could his daughter be, plague take the maid What's this, here's a note on the table laid "Dear Father, we thought your advice was so good We carried it out just as soon as we could If you ask our advice as to what you should do Oh, we'd just make the best of it, if we were you That's what we'd do, that's what we'd do That's what we'd do, if we were you"
Peter The Meter Reader Composer(s): Don Bearman; Meri Wilson Performer(s): Meri Wilson
Here we go again!
I was lyin' on my back porch, just a-gettin' some sun Had my hair done up in pigtails, had my swimmin' suit on I was just about asleep when there came a shadow over me I opened up my eyes to peek and what did I see-eee-eee
There was a man, what a man, lookin' down over me Tall, dark and handsome, six-foot-three There was a look in his eye that was tellin' me You knew there was somethin' that he wanted to see
He said, "Hi! My name's Peter And I'm here to read your meter I'd like to see your kilowatts Could you take me to your box"
I didn't have the slightest notion where that box could be But I said to Peter, "Won't you follow me" We went upstairs, downstairs, inside and out I just loved having Peter follow me about
He said, "Hey, what's with ya pops Can't you take me to your box I came here to see your meter They call me Peter the meter reader"
By the time he found my meter it was quarter-past-four And he said to watch my heater as he was walkin' through my door Ev'ry single kilowatt was lookin' just fine And he'd be comin' back to see them in another month's ti-i-i-ime
So now I'm waitin', yes I'm waitin' so patiently To have my sweet, sweet Peter read my meter for me But maybe I should tell you so you'll understand That Peter used to be my telephone man
Singin' hey-lolly-lolly, hey-lolly-lolly Hey lolly-lolly, get it anyway you can Hah-hah-hah, oh, I never done anything like this before Well!
Boum badaboum boum boum Boum badaboum boum boum Avant de faire tout sauter Boum boum Laissez-moi le temps d' aimer Badaboum Laissez-moi encore la vie Boum boum Au moins mille et une nuits Badaboum Boum badaboum boum boum Boum badaboum boum boum Laissez-moi encor la vie Boum boum Au moins mille et une nuits Badaboum Laissez-moi mille et un jours Boum boum Avant le compte à rebours Badaboum Boum badaboum boum boum Boum badaboum boum boum
Si mes jours me sont comptés Boum boum Je n'veux pas seulement aimer Badaboum S'il est d'autres paradis Boum boum Je veux les connaître aussi Badaboum Boum badaboum boum boum Boum badaboum boum boum S'il est d'autres paradis Boum boum Je veux les connaître aussi Badaboum Quand j'aurai tout essayé Boum boum Je partirai sans regret Badaboum Boum badaboum boum boum Boum badaboum boum boum
Laissez-moi vivre un peu Avant d'me faire la peau Boum badaboum boum boum Boum badaboum boum boum
Pete Composer(s): Lanny Grey Performer(s): Doris Day; Dinah Washington
I've got a man, his name is Pete He's awfully good and oh, so sweet He's not the kind that you usually meet He loves me so and I love Pete
A gal that I know loves a boy named Jim Though he treats her mean she still loves him And Sally loves Joe who's the kind that'll cheat Some men are like that, but not my Pete
He never beats me, never mistreats me He never teases, he only pleases I take my troubles with a grain of salt 'Cause I've got a man without a fault
I put him on trial, he passed every test Whatever he does, he does his best I've got no complaints and my life is complete 'Cause I've got a man whose name is Pete
He never beats me, never mistreats me He never teases, he only pleases I take my troubles with a grain of salt 'Cause I've got a man without a fault
I put him on trial, he passed every test Whatever he does, he does his best I've got no complaints and my life is complete 'Cause I've got a man, what a man His name is Pete
Pétalo De Sal Composer(s): Fito Paez Performer(s): Fito Paez
Furioso pétalo de sal la misma calle el mismo bar nada te importa en la ciudad si nadie espera ella se vuelve carmesí, no se si es Baires o Madrid nada te importa en la ciudad si nadie espera y no es tan trágico mi amor, es este sueño es este sol que ayer pareció tan extraño o al menos tus labios yo te entiendo bien, es como hablarle a la pared y tu podrías darme fe
...y te imagino dando vueltas en el vecindario
algo tienen estos años que me hacen poner así y decirte que te extraño y voy a hacerte feliz
The Single Girl (French Version: Je Suis Une Fille Toute Seule - 1968) Composer(s): Martha Sharpe First release by: Sandy Posey - 1967
A single girl all alone in a great big town The single girl gets so tired of love letting her down Life's unreal and the people are phoney And the nights can get so lonely The single girl needs a sweet loving man to lean on
I'm a single girl, wondering if love could be a passing me by I'm a single girl, and I know all about men and their lies Nobody loves me, cause nobody knows me And nobody takes the time to go slowly The single girl needs a sweet loving man to lean on
I lie awake, got up late There's rent, I gotta pay I need a nightime love To get me through the day
I'm a single girl, all alone in a great big town I'm a single girl, and I get so tired of love letting me down But there's a man I'm yet to know Waiting somewhere I'm yet to go Someday I'll have, a sweet loving man to lean on
The single girl needs a sweet loving man to lean on The single girl needs a sweet loving man to lean on ...
Pétalo en la página once, muerto besando los últimos versos "Déjenme solo con el día Pido permiso para nacer" Huele el poema todavía huele a esa flor que no pudo ser Poeta Pablo, a ti te canto poeta Pablo, estravagario
Dukkemann Composer(s): Tor Hultin - Ola B. Johannessen
First performance by: Kirsti Sparboe - 1967
Det var en søt liten dukkemann en så fri og freidig og glad Han lo av de andre små dukker, han å ja For denne særegne dukkemann tenk, han var skarpsindig som få Han sa at de henger jo alle mann i tråd
Han lo av de dumme små dukker som danset på ordre fra noe de ikke forstod Han lo så han hikstet, men plutselig stanset han opp, for hans tråd den ble klippet i to
Og se vår særegne dukkemann han forstod: Hvis dansen skal gå da må man nok sprelle som alle mann i tråd
Han lo av de dumme små dukker som danset på ordre fra noe de ikke forstod Han lo så han hikstet, men plutselig stanset han opp, for hans tråd den ble klippet i to Så ble vår særegne dukkemann uten liv og måtte forstå en tråd har en snelle så hvis man vil telle da må man nok sprelle som alle mann i tråd
Pet Sematary Composer(s): Dee Dee Ramone; Daniel Rey Performer(s): The Ramones; and various other artists
Under the arc of a weather stain boards Ancient goblins, and warlords Come out of the ground, not making a sound The smell of death is all around And the night when the cold wind blows No one cares, nobody knows
[Chorus] I don't want to be buried in a pet sematary I don't want to live my life again I don't want to be buried in a pet sematary I don't want to live my life again
Follow Victor to the sacred place This ain't a dream, I can't escape Molars and fangs, the clicking of bones Spirits moaning among the tombstones And the night, when the moon is bright Someone cries, something ain't right
The moon is full, the air is still All of a sudden I feel a chill Victor is grinning, flesh rotting away Skeletons dance, I curse this day And the night when the wolves cry out Listen close and you can hear me shout
If I Could Sing You A Rainbow I'd Leave Out The Rainy Day And With Colors For My Feelin's And Things I Want To Say To You If I Could Make A Blue Sky Out Of The Clouds Of Grey I'd Give You A Golden Sunset And Still All I Can Say Is How Would You Love Me If I Should Sing You A Rainbow? If I Could Sing You A Rainbow No Need To Bring You Flowers I Think You'd Understand From The Minutes And The Hours That We Were Together And I'm Singing You A Rainbow I Could Simply Say I Love You Too And That Won't Do I Can Take Your Hand And Hope That You Would Understand If I Could Sing You A Rainbow I'd Leave Out The Rainy Day And With Colors For My Feelin's And Things I Want To Say To You If I Could Make A Blue Sky Out Of The Clouds Of Grey I'd Give You A Golden Sunset And Still All I Can Say Is How Would You Love Me If I Should Sing You A Rainbow? Singin' A Rainbow, Watchin' The Rain Go... Singin' A Rainbow, Watchin' The Rain Go... Singin' A Rainbow, Watchin' The Rain Go...
Pesce Veloce Del Baltico Composer(s): Paolo Conte Performer(s): Paolo Conte
Vecchi i cristalli tintinnano nel trasandato hotel luci sinistre han le musiche non è il "Guglielmo Tell" la radio situata nel angolo di semioscurità sembra una pagoda mongola dell'infelicità
Da-dam, da-dam, da-dam, ...
Viaggiatori di commercio rifuggiatisi quassù piccioni dalle ali bagnate la pioggia sedia e non smette più guardano a turno il telefono sempre impassibilie il loro tempo si sbriciola sembra passabile
Da-dam, da-dam, da-dam, ...
Uno dalla scala a chiocciola scende da basso e sta fermo sul legno che scrichiola per la sua vetustà sì, venditori vecchi incantatori, suggestionatori la strada fatta là fuori è stata percorsa già
Da-dam, da-dam, da-dam, ...
"Pesce Veloce del Baltico" dice il menu che contorno han torta di mais e poi servono polenta e baccalà cucina povera e umile fatta d'ingenuità caduta nel gorgo perfido della celebrità della celebrità