Texts of the Neapolitan songs

Puortalo â scola, puortalo p' 'a mano
Tutt' 'e matine e nun 'o trascurà…
Dille ca papà sujo mò sta luntano…
Dille ca papà sujo nun pò turnà.
È accussì fino, accussì delicato
C' 'a sciorta mia nun ce l' 'e 'a fà sapè.
Si chillo 'o ssape ca sto carcerato,
Nennillo se ne more 'mbracci'a tte.

'Mparale 'e ccose 'e Dio,
Dille c' 'a Patria è santa.
E si 'nu juorno avessa j' a cumbattere,
I' ca sò stato 'nfame e disertore,
Voglio c' 'o figlio mio cumbatte e more!

Vinnete 'a casa… 'e scanne 'a sott' ô lietto,
Ma 'e libbre a ninno nun c' 'e ffà mancà;
E nun te fà purtà male rispetto:
Tu ca sì mamma fatte rispettà.
Mamma!… Che nomme d'oro! Che parola!
'N'ata cchiù cummuvente nun ce sta…
Chesto 'o ssacc'io ca nun sò ghiuto â scola,
I' c'aggio fatto chiagnere a mammà!…

'Mparale 'e ccose 'e Dio,
Dille c' 'a Patria è santa.
E si 'nu juorno avessa j' a cumbattere,
I' ca sò stato 'nfame e disertore,
Voglio c' 'o figlio mio cumbatte e more!

Diec'anne – 'o ssaje – c'avimm' 'a stà luntane…
Nce pienze o no ca sò 'n'eternità?
A 'o piccerillo mio vasale 'e mmane
Ca 'nfaccia nun sò degno d' 'o vasà…
Nun ce 'o dì, nun ce 'o dì chi sò stat'io,
E tutt' 'o mmale c'aggio fatto a tte…
'O voglio galantomo 'o figlio mio,
Pecché nun voglio ca sumiglia a mme!

'Mparale 'e ccose 'e Dio,
Dille c' 'a Patria è santa.
E si 'nu juorno avessa j' a cumbattere,
I' ca sò stato 'nfame e disertore,
Voglio c' 'o figlio mio cumbatte e more!

Take him to school, take him by the hand
Every morning and don't neglect it…
Tell him that his dad is far away now…
Tell him that his dad can't come back.
It's so subtle, so delicate
That he must not know about my fate.
If he knows that I'm in prison,
My boy will die in your arms.

Raise him to be pious,
Tell him that the Motherland is sacred.
And if one day he has to fight,
I, who have been infamous and deserter,
I want my son to fight and die like a hero!

Sell everything in the house… even your bed,
But don't allow our child to remain without books;
And don't let him mistreat you:
You are the mother, make him respect you.
Mother!… What a beautiful name! What a word!
There's no another one more touching than it…
Even I, who didn't go to school, know it,
I, who made my mother cry!…

Raise him to be pious,
Tell him that the Motherland is sacred.
And if one day he has to fight,
I, who have been infamous and deserter,
I want my son to fight and die like a hero!

Ten years – you know it – we must be separated…
Do you think or not that it's an eternity?
Kiss the hands of my little boy,
Because I'm not worthy to kiss his face…
Don't tell him, don't tell him who I was,
And how much evil I caused you.
I want my son to be a gentleman,
Because I don't want him to be like me!

Raise him to be pious,
Tell him that the Motherland is sacred.
And if one day he has to fight,
I, who have been infamous and deserter,
I want my son to fight and die like a hero!