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Atheist and anticlerical, electro-mechanic by his profession, social activist by conviction, but the singer by vocation.
Stanisław Grzesiuk (18.05.1918), one of the famous pre-war Polish singers, wasn't writting his song by own. He collected them from street singers, bands and organ grinders which played in Warsaw bars and pubs. Maybe this is the reason why he was so popular? His songs were well known and people could sing with him, on his shows.
When First World War broke out he was 21 years old and lived in poverty district in Czerniaków. From the beginning he was involved in resistance. Becouse of this he was arrested and sent to work in Germany. However he bit his German master and because of that he was taken to a concentration camp till the end of war. He died in 1963 an tuberculosis which he caught in slavery.
Today his songs seems to be funny, but they are the best witness of poor Warsaw people life. They says about their dreams, worries and daily life.
We welcome to hear one of Grzesiuk's song. It is about love to the Warsaw, which cannot be understand by outsider, love which can defeat even Hitler. English lyrics is a little "funny", but it's because Warsaw pre-war slang is very hard to translate.
Nie masz cwaniaka nad Warszawiaka
There isn't dodger greater than Warsaw dude
Alejami wycackany szedł se jakiś gość Facjata niby owszem, może być Nagle potknął się o kamień rycząc "Och, psiakość! Jak oni mogą w tej Warszawie żyć!" I ciut nie zalała mnie zła krew, Więc go na perłowo w tenże śpiew:
Nie bądź za cwany w Unrę odziany, To może mieć dla ciebie skutek opłakany Nie masz cwaniaka nad warszawiaka, Który by mógł go wziąć pod bajer lub pod pic
Możesz mnie chamem zwać, możesz mi w mordę dać Lecz od stolicy wont, bo krew się będzie lać Wiec znakiem tego, nie bądź lebiegą przyhamuj buzie i nie gadaj więcej nic
Jeden był specjalnie na Warszawę straszny pies Już mówił nawet : „Warschau ist kaputt!" Lecz pomylił się łachudra, rozczarował fest I próżny był majchrowy jego trud Mówić nawet nie potrafię, ach I dzisiaj mu śpiewamy tak:
Chciałeś być cwany, w ząbek czesany, To teraz gnijesz, draniu, w błocie pochowany My, warszawiacy, jesteśmy tacy, Kto nam na odcisk - to już Hiszpan* - zimny trup
I niechaj każdy wie: kto na nas szarpnie się, To mu to zaraz bokiem wyjdzie - może nie? Nie masz cwaniaka nad warszawiaka - Chcesz z nami zacząć to se przedtem trumnę kup
One day some dude was walking down the street in Warsaw At first glance he looked elegant Suddenly he tripped on a stone and curse "Damn! How can they live here in this Warsaw"! Then I really got angry And I riposted him and sang:
Do not be so clever, do not exalt This may end badly for you You don’t have dodger biggest than dude from Warsaw and You cannot bamboozle him
You can say that I am a cad, You can hit me in the face but do not laugh from the capital because there will be blood So do not be stupid and slow down
There was a guy who did not like the Warsaw even he said: „Warschau ist kaputt!" But he was mistaken and trully disappointed When his effort was so futile that I can not even say And today, I sing to him:
Wanted to be clever man with funny rectangle moustache ;-) So now You rots and lie buried in the mud We, Varsovians, are such that who pissed us, will be soon a cold corpse
And let everyone know that who attacked us, he will end sadly - Isn't he ? You don’t have dodger biggest than dude from Warsaw If you start with us, buy yourself a coffin before
Atheist and anticlerical, electro-mechanic by his profession, social activist by conviction, but the singer by vocation.
