Humleridderne — Fuck A' song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Fuck A'" by Humleridderne.
Lyrics
Fuck A'
Bli’r jeg til en kylling?
Bli’r jeg til en kylling?
Over det lave gærde, men løb panden mod muren
Løb panden mod luren, da lurendrejeren, drejed' luren
Fanden og hans pumpestok, jeg jogger i spinaten
Med fingre i fedtefadet, kendt som tugthus-kandidaten
Lokummet brænder, jeg har et øre i maskinen
Skyder en hvid pind efter frihed, for nu ruller lavinen
En tur på vand og brød, en udflugt til Gitterly
Må for en tid forlade min lille lyserøde sky
Nu har posten taget håret, for det sad i kassen
Den gik ikke Granberg, af ballonen gik gassen
Nogen fik talt over sig, som skidt fra en spædekalv
Og fik stoppet mig helt, før jeg fik stoppet en halv
Bli’r ørnen til en kylling på den første dag?
Fuck A'
Bli’r jeg til en kylling?
Bli’r jeg til en kylling?
De si’r det ik' kan betale sig, for de har lange arme
Men det er blot tomme tønder, der forstår at larme
Har man solgt skindet, skal man ha' bjørnen skudt
Selv med lus i skindpelsen, får man det billigere end budt
Og hæler og stjæler, de' skåret over en kam
Det tages med et gran salt, kun et gran og ik' et gram
Men billige varme varer, er ik' blot kat' i en sæk
Altså lige indtil den dag, at skuden springer læk
For der kan man ikke la' skylden gå fløjten
Og i cellen er man fri for den der flakken og føjten
Og alle man kender ved hvor man holder hus
Man må ta' sin straf som en mand, selvom man er en mus
Bli’r ørnen til en kylling på den første dag?
Fuck A'
Lyrics translation
Fuck A'
Am I gonna be a chicken?
Am I gonna be a chicken?
Over the low wicket, but ran the pan against the wall
Run your forehead against the Lurker, as The Lurker, turned the Lurker
Damn it and his pump Rod, I'm jogging in the spinach
With fingers in the fat, known as the tugthus candidate
I got an ear in the machine
Shooting a white stick for freedom, because now the Avalanche is rolling
A walk on water and bread, an excursion to the Gitterly
May for a time leave my little pink cloud
Now the Mail has taken the hair, for it sat in the box
It did not go Granberg, of the balloon went the gas
Somebody talked about it like shit from a baby calf
And stopped me completely before I stopped a half
Will the Eagle turn into a chicken on the first day?
Fuck A'
Am I gonna be a chicken?
Am I gonna be a chicken?
They say it doesn't pay, because they have long arms
But it's just empty barrels that know how to make noise
If you've sold the skin, you have to have the bear shot
Even with lice in the fur coat, you get it cheaper than bid
And fence and steal, they ' cut across a crest
It is taken with a grain of salt, only a grain and not a gram
But cheap hot goods, is not 'just cat' in a sack
That is, right up until the day that the ship jumps leak
'Cause you can't blame yourself for that
And in the cell you're free from that flutter and the whistle
And everyone you know knows where to keep a house
You have to take your punishment like a man, even if you're a mouse
Will the Eagle turn into a chicken on the first day?
Fuck A'