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Texts of the Neapolitan songs

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Marcetta 'e campagna


Museca: Pasquale Frustaci,

Vierze: Libero Bovio.

Anno: 1928

Village march


Music: Pasquale Frustaci,

Lyrics: Libero Bovio.

Year: 1928


Sò d'oro 'sti ppigne
Ca è tiempo 'e vennegna,
Ma 'a casa 'e campagna
Ll'avimm' 'a lassà.
'A zappa ll'appenno vicino â zampogna,
Ma sulo 'a chitarra m' 'a voglio purtà.

Quann' 'e surdate dormono
Dint' â nuttata doce,
I' cu 'nu filo 'e voce
Mme metto a suspirà:
'Nnammuratella mia, mò ch'è vennegna,
Moro d' 'o desiderio 'e stà 'ncampagna.

Pe' 'mmiez'a 'sti vvigne,
'Nu poco russagne,
Mammella m'astregne
Pe' nun me lassà.
Tatillo me scanza ca nun è cuntegno
Mustrarse abbeluto pe' 'n'ommo d'età.

Quann' 'e surdate dormono
Dint' â nuttata doce,
I' cu 'nu filo 'e voce
Mme metto a suspirà:
'Nnammuratella mia, mò ch'è vennegna,
Moro d' 'o desiderio 'e stà 'ncampagna.

Parrocchia 'e campagna,
Te lasso 'ncunzegna
'N'ammore ca chiagne,
Ca more pe' mme.
E i' vaco luntano, sperduto p' 'o Regno,
Surdato 'e campagna, surdato d' 'o Rre.

Quann' 'e surdate dormono
Dint' â nuttata doce,
I' cu 'nu filo 'e voce
Mme metto a suspirà:
'Nnammuratella mia, mò ch'è vennegna,
Moro d' 'o desiderio 'e stà 'ncampagna.



These grapes are ripe
'Cause it's time of the vintage,
But we have to leave
Our houses in the village.
I put my hoe beside the bagpipe,
But only my guitar I want to take with me.

When the soldiers sleep
On a quiet night,
In a low voice
I start to sigh:
My sweetheart, now that it's the vintage,
I'm dying to be in our village.

In the middle of these grapes,
That are reddish a little,
My mommy hugs me tightly
Not to let me go.
My daddy avoids me 'cause he thinks it's unworthy
To look depressed for an old man.

When the soldiers sleep
On a quiet night,
In a low voice
I start to sigh:
My sweetheart, now that it's the vintage,
I'm dying to be in our village.

Village church,
I leave in your care
My beloved that cries,
That suffers because of me.
And I go far away, confused, for the Kingdom,*
'Cause I'm a soldier from village, a soldier of our King.

When the soldiers sleep
On a quiet night,
In a low voice
I start to sigh:
My sweetheart, now that it's the vintage,
I'm dying to be in our village.

translated by Natalia Chernega

* Kingdom of Italy,
till june 1946 Italy was the monarchy.