Christopher Buxton » Botev

Patriot by Christo Botev

‘Botev’ Category

  1. Patriot by Christo Botev

    January 10, 2011 by Christopher Buxton

    He’s a Patriot! He dedicates
    A soul to Freedom and to Reason;
    Not his personal soul, my mates,
    But the soul of the whole nation.
    And he fairly weighs up everyone,
    Pounds and pence thrown in the scale,
    He’s human – why – what’s to be done?
    His very soul is up for sale.

    And he’s a good Christian chap
    He never misses a single mass
    But he only climbs the temple step
    ‘Cos the deals are just too good to miss.
    And he fairly weighs up everyone,
    Pounds and pence thrown in the scale,
    He’s human – why – what’s to be done?
    His very wife is up for sale

    And he’s got a benevolent heart
    To the orphan, he’ll be kind.
    But he don’t feed you for his part
    You feed him, brothers, with your grind.
    And he fairly weighs up everyone,
    Pounds and pence thrown in the scale,
    He’s human – why – what’s to be done
    He’ll guzzle all the goodies without fail.

    Translated by Christopher Buxton

  2. Down the Pub – by Christo Botev

    January 9, 2011 by Christopher Buxton

    Heavy, my soul! Pour out the wine!
    Get me so pissed, I can just ignore
    The point you miss, idiot swine
    Shame or glory – what’s it for?

    Land of my birth, so soon forgot,
    The shelter of my father’s eaves
    And those who in my soul begot
    A fighting spirit, true belief.

    Let’s forget my needy folk,
    My father’s grave, my mothers passion,
    And those who squeeze us till we choke
    And rob us in most noble fashion.

    They bleed our hungry people cold
    They rob them all so niggardly
    Landlords and merchants just sigh for gold
    Priests rip them off with liturgy.

    Rob them, you unfeeling bastards!
    Rob them, so they scarcely stand.
    Soon they’ll lie defeated, shattered,
    While their sons drink glass in hand

    We drink, we sing our rebel yells,
    Bite all oppressors in the arses!
    Let’s break through these strangling walls!
    To arms! Let’s grab the mountain passes

    We scream but when we’re sober,
    We forget our oaths and declamations
    We fall silent and we simper
    ‘Fore the sacred martyrs of our nation

    And the Tyrant’s power increases
    Makes our land a filthy joke
    Hangs, impales, flogs, fleeces,
    Curses our enslavéd folk

    Fill up again! And lift the weight
    From my soul. Get me pissed
    Sink all my sober thought
    And soften up my manly fist

    I want to drink to spite the foe
    And to spite you too, you patriots,
    I’m not your bosom pal you know,
    And you…you are just idiots!

    Translated by Christopher Buxton 2011