Allan Olsen — Taberens Søn song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Taberens Søn" by Allan Olsen.
Lyrics
Hold op med at skabe dig siger far til søn
Hvad fanden er meningen knægt
Jeg var byens bedste bokser inden du blev født
Så ta' lige og vis lidt respekt
Byens bedste bokser — vor herre bevares
Vi er trætte af at høre hvad du var
Du ligner et ubagt franskbrød
Som du sidder og hænger der
Tror du ikke jeg har set de billeder mor gemmer
Af dig talt ud i en ring
Hvordan du ligger og roder på kanvassen*
Mens folk står og griner rundt omkring
Det er almindelig kendt blandt folk her i byen
At når du endelig vandt var det held
Er det rigtigt når mor siger du ikke var i stand
Til at binde dine boksehandsker selv?
Far læner sig frem og kigger på mor
Der strikker og stirrer på sit garn
— hvad er det nu for noget går i to og snakker
Mens en anden én må ta? sin tørn
Du sku hellere fortælle ham hvor håbløs du var
Da vi lærte hinanden at kende
Når du sku' flå en fisk sku' du først ud og brække dig
Se det er hvad hans mor var for én
— å gu' når jeg tænker på hvad jeg ku' ha fået
Af gode patter og fastere kød
Men fanden tog ved mig
Jeg fik ondt af det med dig
Så jeg tog dig af barmhjertighed
Forstår du knægt mor var svag og psykisk
Det var noget hun havde fra sin far
Hun gik folk på nerverne med sit vræleri
De kaldte hende for pylderkaren
Mor holder på masken
Hendes øjne er blanke
Det er jul hun vil helst holde fred
Alligevel brænder der en djævel i hende
Der må fyre trumfen af
— hvad øgenavne angår og knægten og hans skole
Og at han ikke er til at drive derhen
Så skyldes det måske de har givet ham et navn
Og det navn er? taberens søn?
Far mærker hvordan det kribler i næsen
Han må ud af den her barak
Som en gnu på savannen i hyænernes flok
Kan han mærke det er nu han skal væk
Udenfor på terrassen er der koldt og det er nat
Og hvid jul og hvad rager det ham
Han havde faktisk tænkt sig at holde sig ædru i år
Men nu kan det være det samme
Han pisser i sneen uden at holde ved
Og tænder en smøg imens
Og kigger på haven via hækkens silhouet
Den her bette verden er hans
For dét har man knoklet lige siden man var sytten
Men utak er verdens løn
Nu har man en knægt der ik' vil i skole
Fordi de kalder ham for taberens søn
Der tændes lys i et vindue i boligkarreen
Mod vest et par gader herfra
Tænk at flytte ind i den slags kasser
Det er vel det man har minker til
Han bygynder og mindes da han selv voksede op
Hvordan der var pyldrerøve nok
Hvad med en type som vejmandens erik
Der trods alt var det største pjok
Han var dum til at regne
Han var dum til at skrive
I gymnastik var han bedst til at vræle
Men han var god til at sladre så nu er han i føtex
Hvor hun lurer på om folk de vil stjæle
Og hva' med jørgen der ikke måtte bokse for hans mor
Fordi hun syntes hans næse var så pæn
Men ka' sige jørgen aldrig blev en taber
Fordi han aldrig stak snotten frem
Han kigger over skulderen ind til de andre
For at sikre sig han ikke blir' set
Så stepper han og bukker og dukker for hug
Som de hug der engang sendte ham ned
Jo gu' tabte han da mere end han vandt dengang
Men herregud det var ungdomspjat
Men en ting er sikkert han gik aldrig baglæns
Som alle de andre skvat
Knægten er hans og hun er osse o. k
I halvmørke er hun stadigvæk køn
Om lidt vil han ind — han skal lige ryge færdig
Og så vil han lade som ingenting
I morgen skal knægten fandenrasme i skole
Og taberen går med ham derhen
Så knejten ka' se
At det faktisk er helt o. k
At være ham de kalder taberens søn
Lyrics translation
Stop creating you says father to son
What the hell's the point kid
I was the best fighter in town before you were born
So have a little respect
The best boxer in town-our Lord is preserved
We're tired of hearing what you were
You look like an unpeeled French bread
As you sit and hang there
You think I haven't seen those pictures mom's hiding
By you spoken out in a ring
How to lay and mess on the canvas*
While people are laughing all around
It is widely known among people in this city
That when you finally won it was luck
Is it true when mom says you weren't able
To tie your boxing gloves yourself?
Dad leans forward and looks at mom
Who knits and stares at his yarn
- what are you two talking about
While another one must take? his stint
You'd better tell him how hopeless you were
When we got to know each other
When you were going to rip a fish out first, you were going to puke
See that's what his mother was for one
- when I think about what I could have gotten
Of good tits and firmer meat
But the hell took over me
I felt sorry for you
So I took you out of mercy
You see Kid mom was weak and psychic
It was something she had from her father
She got on people's nerves with her whining
They called her the coddle class
Mom keeps the mask
Her eyes are shiny
It's Christmas she wants to keep her peace
Yet a devil burns in her
There must fire the Trump of
- as for nicknames and the kid and his school
And that he can't drive there
Maybe it's because they gave him a name
And that name is? the loser's son?
Dad feels how it creeps in the nose
He has to get out of this barracks
Like a wildebeest in the hyena herd
Can he feel it now is the time to leave
Outside on the terrace there is cold and it's night
And white Christmas and what's it to him
He was actually going to stay sober this year
But now it can be the same
He pisses in the snow without holding on
And light a cigarette while you're at it
And looking at the garden via the hedge silhouette
This little world is his
Because you've been working hard ever since you were seventeen
But ungrateful is the wages of the world
Now you have a kid who doesn't want to go to school
Because they call him the loser's son
Lights are lit in a window in the housing block
To the West a few blocks from here
I can't believe moving into boxes like that
I guess that's what you got minks for
He builds and remembers when he grew up
How there was enough fuss
How about a type like Roadman erik
There after all was the biggest pjok
He was stupid to rain
He was stupid to write
In gymnastics he was best at wriggling
But he was good at talking so now he's in føtex
Where she's wondering if people they want to steal
And what about jørgen who wasn't supposed to fight for his mother
Because she thought his nose was so pretty
But ka' say jørgen never became a loser
Because he never put out his snout
He looks over his shoulder into the others
To make sure he's not seen
Then he steppes and bows and Dolls for squatting
Like the ones that once sent him down
Of course he lost more than he won back then
Oh my god it was a juvenile joke
But one thing is for sure he never went backwards
Like all the other wimps
The kid's his and she's O. k
In semi darkness she's still pretty
In a minute he wants to go in — he just needs to finish
And then he'll pretend like nothing
Tomorrow the kid's going to school
And the loser goes with him there
So the boy can see
That it is actually quite o. k
Being the one they call the loser's son