Triakel   Songs from 63 Degrees N

Triakel Lyrics in Swedish and English -- Notes in English

Translation notes by Alistair Cochrane.

1. Veit
    Where D'you Think...?

A newly-composed song by Lars Persa, first encountered by Emma and Kjell when they and Ville Roempke recorded it for a film. "Best thing is to think of this song as a kind of desperate incantation," was the message from its composer, who also threw in an extra verse so that it would fit in with Triakel's arrangement.

Veit vår sola ahllten skin
fauglan kvitter
inger grin
veit vår stårsan e bra fin?

Veit vår gräse ahllten e
brano grönt
å grönar tre
veit vår all får vae i fre?

Veit vår ingenting e svårst
å e öft
e huskut kort
om nättran er e lagom mårt?

De e västa
nola vaerln
å åsta
sönna hagan
nola västa sjön
å sönna
åsta dagom

Man,
kjårdda ge se, de vål vårn
snön, han smähllt bort
baer vål gårn
sjön å himlen, bå vål blå

Vaerla vaken, lauve grönt
sommarn artu
som mae drömt
Vaermen! som mae trodd mae glömt
Ongan näckjen! Uttan krim!
Hör på fauglan!
Melodin!
A momma glöm bort krämpan sin!
De e som västa
nola värln c

Where d'you think the skies are bright
Girls are pretty
Hearts are light
Birds are singing day and night?

Where d'you find a life of ease
Green grass
And greener trees,
Gently waving in the breeze?

Where d'you think the bugs don't bite
And the work
Is quick and light?
Where's it hardly dark at night?

It's to the east of the waning moon
And to the west of the wide horizon,
North of where the sun goes down
And south of where it's rising.

But the winter's frost will come and go
Spring will follow
And melt the snow,
Frozen streams will start to flow.

Fields and trees no longer bare,
Forgotten warmth
Fills the air.
Life leaps from its winter lair.

Running round with nothing on,
The kids are playing
Their colds are gone.
Grandma's laughing in the sun.

It's to the east of the waning moon
And to the north of the wide horizon,
North of where the sun goes down
And south of where it's rising.

2. Lars och N'Mas
    Maclay and Macrae

A song with many different variants, sung in Sweden, Norway and Denmark. The tune and verses 1, 2 and 4 are from the singing of Ulrika Lindholm of Raukasjö, Frostviken, in the north of Jämtland. She in turn learned it from a fiddler by the name of Isak Blå from Dorotea in Lappland. We borrowed verse 3 from Halland in southern Sweden, from a version noted by Lars Alderkull. Verse 5 is a mixture of a Norwegian version from Hallingdal and some new words by Emma. Verse 6 comes from the singing of Levi Johansson of Frostviken and verse 7 from Carl Josefsson of the island of Orust in Bohuslän, south-western Sweden. It can sometimes be quite a jigsaw puzzle putting together a singable version of a song.

N'Lars och n'Mas skulle göra en väg,
som till himmelriket bär.
Ska vi härv', sa n'Lars.
Nej vi plöj', sa n'Mas.
Det var bra, sa n'Lars åt n'Mas.

N'Lars och n'Mas gick i skogen en dag,
så fick de se en tupp.
Ska vi skjut'n, sa n'Lars.
Ja de gör vi, sa n'Mas.
Det var bra, sa n'Lars åt n'Mas.

N'Lars sköt fågeln upp på gren,
så han föll ned och dog som en sten.
är han död, sa n'Lars.
Ja de är'n, sa n'Mas.
Det var bra, sa n'Lars åt n'Mas.

Men när de skulle tuppen flå,
så ville inte kniven bita på.
Var e bryna, sa n'Lars.
Uppå hylla, sa n'Mas.
Det var bra, sa n'Lars åt n'Mas.

N'Lars slog klorna i tuppens skinn,
och vände det ut som förr var in.
Det gick ändå, sa n'Lars.
Att tuppen flå, sa n'Mas.
Det var bra, sa n'Lars åt n'Mas.

N'Lars och n'Mas skulle skjuta en bjenn,
och Lars han sikta och Mas han sköt.
Fann jag på, sa n'Lars.
Nej han står, sa n'Mas.
Det var bra, sa n'Lars åt n'Mas.

N'Lars och n'Mas gingo in på en krog,
och Lars tog en liten och Mas tog en stor.
Ta en till, sa n'Lars.
Ja de gör vi, sa n'Mas
Det var bra, sa n'Lars åt n'Mas.

Maclay and Macrae planned to built them a road
To heaven and back all the way.
"With a harrow?" said Maclay,
"No, a plough," said Macrae -
"Not bad!" said Maclay to Macrae.

Maclay and Macrae saw a turkey cock
As they walked in the woods one day.
"Shall we shoot it?" said Maclay,
"Yes, let's do it," said Macrae -
"Not bad!" said Maclay to Macrae.

Maclay and Macrae shot that turkey down
So he fell and he lay stone dead on the ground.
"Is he dead?" said Maclay,
"Full of lead!" said Macrae -
"Not bad!" said Maclay to Macrae.

But when they started to skin that fowl,
The knife wouldn't cut, for the edge was dull.
"Where's the stone?" said Maclay,
"Back at home," said Macrae -
"Not bad!" said Maclay to Macrae.

Maclay dug his nails in the turkey's skin
And he turned that old bird outside in.
"That works too!" said Maclay,
"Good for you!" said Macrae -
"Not bad!" said Maclay to Macrae.

Maclay and Macrae went to hunt some game.
Maclay held the trigger and Macrae took aim.
"Did we get eim?" said Maclay,
"No, forget eim!" said Macrae -
"Not bad!" said Maclay to Macrae.

Maclay and Macrae went out on a spree.
Maclay took a drink and Macrae took three.
"Have some more?" said Maclay,
"Another four," said Macrae -
"Not bad!" said Maclay to Macrae.

3. Lihll-Pe i Floa
    Wee Willie Wattie

A ditty from 1976 written by Olle Simonsson of Offerdal in central Jämtland about his first son Per. Somewhere in the back of his mind was one Pe i Floa, who lived at the end of the 19th century in what is now Olle's summer cabin. The observant listener may notice that Emma doesn't sing the exact words as printed. She learned this song as a child, and some of the words ended up not quite the same as in Olle's original version. That's what happens to traditional songs.

Hårst ske du gå?
sa n'Lihll-Pe i Floa
når je stod herri dörn
ma kleom på.
Ske du gå fram te gålan,
då vill je int fale
je kan vål förtjöle
de e tåcke ver!

Je ske gå fram te gålan
å hämt mjälka
som du ske ha ti välingen denn.
Män de snör å de blås
å de e nå så kåhllt,
så int behöv du fale meg.

Män, Hårst ske du gå?
sa n'Lihll-Pe i Floa
når je stod herri dörn
ma kleom på.
Ske du gå fram te gålan,
då vill je int fale
je kan vål förtjöle
de e tåcke ver!

Je ske gå fram te gålan
å hämt mjöle
som du ske ha ti gröten denn.
Män de snör å de blås
å de e nå så kåhllt,
så int behöv du fale meg

Hårst ske du gå?
sa n'Lihll-Pe i Floa
når je stod herri dörn
ma kleom på.
Ske du gå fram te gålan,
då vill je int fale
je kan vål förtjöle
de e tåcke ver!

Je ske gå fram te gålan
å häls på a momma di
je ha härt att hu ha
nå hslag du ske få.
Män de snör å de blås
å de e nå så kåhllt,
så int behöv du fale meg

Män, om du ske gå,
sa n'Lihll-Pe i Floa
fram te gålan å häls på a momma mi,
då vill je nå fale
då gjett je få fale
då skit je ti vere
å förtjölinga å!
Ja, då vill je nå fale, då gjett je få fale,
Då skit je ti vere å förtjölinga å!!

Where are you goin'?
said Wee Willie Wattie
as I stood by the door
in my jacket and cap
If you're off to the farm
I don't wanna go
I might get the cold
in weather like this.

I'm goin' to the farm
to get some milk
for you to have in your gruel today.
But it's cold and it's snowin'
and a hard wind's blowin'
so you don't have to come with me.

But where are you goin'?
said Wee Willie Wattie
as I stood by the door
in my jacket and cap
If you're off to the farm
I don't wanna go
I might get the cold
in weather like this.

I'm goinLto the farm
to get some meal
for you to have in your porridge today.
But it's cold and it's snowin'
And a hard wind's blowin'
So you don't have to come with me.

Where are you goin'?
says Wee Willie Wattie
as I stood by the door
in my jacket and cap
If you're off to the farm
I don't wanna go
I might get the cold
in weather like this.

I'm goin' to the farm
to talk to grandma
I believe she said
she had somethin' for you.
But it's cold and it's snowin
and a hard wind's blowinL
so you don't have to come with me.

But if you're goin'
said Wee Willie Wattie
to the farm
to talk to grandma now
I wanna come too,
I have to come too,
and to hell with the weather
and colds and stuff.
I wanna come too,
I have to come too,
and to hell with the weather
and colds and stuff.

4. Lill tåa
    Little Toe

A lullaby based on a nursery rhyme about the names of the toes. Words and music are by Alan Kristensson, a journalist and schoolteacher with his roots in Oviken in southern Jämtland.

Lilltåa, Tåtilla, Kroknosa, Tillerosa
Stortimpen oppi veran.

Lillklocka, Storklocka,
nu ring dom först gången.
Lillklocka, Storklocka,
snarrt står du på gången.
/Tia slång å du ha vörte lång.
Nåsu ber du oppi veran./

Lillklocka, Storklocka,
nu ring dom anner gången.
Lillklocka, Storklocka,
si brura på gången!
/Foltje står å sir på hårr du går.
Orgeln spala oppi veran./

Lillklocka, Storklocka,
nu ring dom sist gången.
Lillklocka, Storklocka,
si kista på gången.
/Gulla dine å tri skovle mull,
åssa bor je oppi veran./

Little Toe, Tiddle Poe, Piggy Middle, Crooked Joe,
Little Toe, Tiddle Poe, Piggy Middle, Crooked Joe,
Brother Biggy curling skywards.

Little chime, big chime,
Bells are ringing the first time.
Little chime, big chime,
First communion, dressed up fine.
Time has passed and now you're growing fast,
Nose is pointing up skywards.

Little chime, big chime,
Bells are ringing the second time.
Little chime, big chime,
See the young bride in her prime.
Every eye sees you a-gliding by,
Organ music swelling skywards.

Little chime, big chime,
Bells are ringing the last time.
Little chime, big chime,
See the coffin of pale pine,
A floral wreath, all eyes are red with grief -
And the soul flying skywards.

5. Grannar och vänner
    Friends and Neighbours

A real folk hit from the old days, going back in Sweden at least to the 17th century. Also sung in Norway and Denmark. This version comes from Triakel's favorite song book, Karl Bohlin's Jämtland collection from 1880.

Ja grannar och vänner de lade om råd
/hur de skulle gifta sin dotter ändå/
uti rosen

Fredan och lördan gingo de kring
/söndan så höllo de hedersdagen in/

De drucko i dagar de drucko i två
/men unga bruden vill ej åt sängarne gå/

De drucko i dagar de drucko i fem
/men unga bruden vill ej åt sängarne än/

Då kom där in en liten stalldräng
/han var allt klädd uti blåa skjortelen/

Han talte därom ett förgångande skepp
/med sidenvita flagg och förgyllande ros/

Hon gångar och såg de flaggorna blå
/som hon hade sytt med sina fingrar små/

Hälsa nu hem till min käraste far
/be honom dricka jag håller mig glad/

Hälsa nu hem till min kära fästerman
/be honom söka och välja sig en ann/

Och jungfrun hon la sig i rödgalonens famn
/hon vakna inte upp förns i tredje konungs land/
uti rosen

Their friends and their neighbours they schemed and they planned
To get the daughter wed to the right kind of man
To get the daughter wed to the right kind of man
- For the roses -

On Friday and Saturday they bustled out and in,
On Sunday they were ready the wedding to begin.

They feasted for one day, they feasted for two,
But to the bridal chamber the bride wouldn't go.

They feasted for three days, they feasted for four
But the bride wouldn't go through the bridal chamber door.

Then in there came a little stable lad,
In blue from top to toe he was clad.

He told of a ship that was passing their way
With white silken flags and garlands so gay.

She went to the shore and she saw from the land
The flags she had sewn with her own gentle hand.

"Send word back home to my father dear,
Let the feast carry on in gladness and cheer.

"Send word to the groom who's waiting for me
Let him find himself another, for now I am free."

In gold braid wrapped this maiden she lay,
And when she woke again she was far, far away.
And when she woke again she was far, far away
- For the roses -

6. Min docka
    My Pretty Maid

Collected in Hammerdal by Karl Bohlin, but also known from further south in Oviken. Features the only guest artist on this record, Anders Larsson, a folk singer and former classmate of Emma's from the folk music school in Malung.

God dag god dag min docka,
är lilla vännen borta?
Beklageligt var det.
En sådan sorg ock smärta
bekymmer för mitt hjärta
ack om jag kunde få vända
min sorg till din tröst.

Ock prata inga konster
för mig du är ett mönster.
Inbilla dig ej.
Ack om jag sådant gjorde
ock lilla vännen sporde
vist gladdes du storligen
öfver mitt fall.

Ock dig så vill jag kläda
med sammet så röda,
ock silken så fin.
Gullringar klar ock fina
de skola på dig skina
blott endast du vill blifva
min käraste vän.

Ock förr än jag skulle taga mig
en sådan stor bedragare,
en sådan som du är.
Ja förr så ska jag sälja
mitt lif ibland skälmar
ock grafva mig neder
i stenjord och sand.

Adjö adjö min kära
men akta på din ära
nu reser jag från dig
Men tager dig till vara
för falska gossars skara
ty den har bedragit
mång` rosende kind.

My pretty maid, good evening,
How sad to see you grieving -
Who can have done you harm?
Did your true love forget you,
Desert you and upset you?
Oh I would gladly let you
Take comfort in my arms.

Oh sir, you use unfairly
Your prattle to ensnare me.
Don't raise your hopes too high.
If I should go with you, it
Would only be to rue it.
As soon as my love knew it
You'd laugh, and I would cry.

I'll buy you gowns of velvet
Deep purple and rich scarlet
And silk bright as the sun.
Fine rings of gold and silver
Shall shine upon each finger,
If only you'll prove kinder,
And be my chosen one.

Before I would agree, sir,
To let a bold deceiver
Like you lead me astray
I'd sooner sell my honour
To rogues and rakes and robbers
Or far from friends and neighbours
I'd hide myself away.

My dear, I will not hurt you.
Be careful of your virtue.
Now I must go my way.
Don't let false young men charm you
Deceive you or disarm you
Their wily ways will harm you,
Like many a pretty maid.

7. Barnamörderskan
    The Cruel Mother

A cheery tune set to an appalling story, noted by Karl Bohlin. The fourth and fifth verses come from a variant of the song sung by Amanda FranzeLn of Horsholma, Föglö.

Och jungfrun hon gick på kyrkogården in,
där födde hon sig en liten arving.
Hon tänkte där var ingen som såg det,
och därför tog hon livet utav det.

Det var min yngsta broder som stod mig näst,
det var min yngsta broder, som plågar mig mest.
Han satte mig i band och i bojor,
gud nåde mig uslaste fånge.

Min mor hon skänkte mig en silverkanna ny,
med fyra guldfötter och stolpar däruti.
Den fyllde hon med blanka riksdaler,
sin dotter hon ville betala.

Men konungen han svarte min moder alltså,
ej heller bryr jag mig om er silverkanna då.
Ej heller era blanka riksdaler,
er dotter skall sin gärning själv försona.

Ack hör ni unga flickor som ståndar mig så när,
som världen känner litet och henne icke lärt.
Låt aldrig falska gossar er bedraga,
då får ni sorg i alla era dagar.

This maid has gone down through the broom and the thorn,
And by yon rushing water her bonny child was born.
She thought that none would see her or know her,
And she has drowned her child in the river.

Alas for my young brother, who once loved me well,
Alas for my young brother, who's done me so ill,
For he has me cursed, bound and beaten,
And cast into a damp, dreary prison.

A goblet of silver my mother gave to me
With gems shining clear as the sparks of the sea.
She filled it up with marks, crowns and dollars,
A ransom for the life of her daughter.

But up and spoke the king, and a proud man was he,
"What matter all your stones and your silver to me?
What care I for your gifts or your daughter?
Whoever has done wrong, let her suffer!"

Come all you innocent maidens, a warning take by me,
When courting the boys, don't be easy and free,
For they will make you love them too dearly,
And leave you then to grieve late and early.

8. Guds fruktan / Steklåt
    Trust in God

The song was collected in Hammerdal by Karl Bohlin. Verses 2 and 3 come from a song from Småland in southern Sweden, g“Dearer you are to me than any other in this world,” which has a very similar tune. The song is rounded off with a dance tune, a schottis from Rättvik in Dalarna, from the playing of Petters Erik. Its origins, well to the south of Jämtland, perhaps ought to disqualify it, but it fits in nicely and bears a strong resemblance to a schottis from Mattmar in west Jämtland played by Munter Johan.

Jag lever i gudsfruktan med nöje till min död,
men ett är som kväljer mitt hjärta.
En annan har bedragit min kära fästemö,
det må jag beklaga med smärta.
Men aldrig i världen jag har sådant tänkt,
att en så stark kärlek skall bliva bortvänd,
där över jag månd mig beklaga.

Jag haver ingen kärare allt uppå denna jord,
än vännen som jag haver i mitt sinne.
Mitt hjärta är bebundet allt med en sorg så stor,
och därför mina tårar rinner,
för dig min lilla vän som jag haver i mitt sinn.
Jag önskar av allt hjärta att du skull bliva min,
men kanske är jag allt för ringa.

Nog vet jag att du kunde dig en rikare få,
ja här uti världen att leta.
Och mången kan väl söka efter rikedomar stor,
men kunna finna den som sig förtreta.
Ja gud han giver mig min lilla skärda del.
En kan väl inte klaga och inte finna fel,
om du ville människa heta.

I put my trust in God and content I'll always be,
At peace with all the world but for one thing:
My love has found another and turned her back on me
And left me all alone sadly pining.
I never would have thought that from one day to the next
I'd lose a love that seemed to be the strongest and the best,
But that's why you can hear me complaining.

I'll never love another as much in all my life
As her that was my joy and my darling.
My heart is full of sorrow, my soul is full of strife,
My tears will never cease to be streaming.
For you're the only one who could ease my troubled mind,
If only you'd come back to me and promise to be kind -
But now, it seems, to you I am nothing.

I know that you could find yourself a richer man than me
If money was the thing you really wanted
But though you were to marry a man of high degree,
You might regret the day your wish was granted.
But I will not complain, and I won't give way to greed
For God has given me the little that I need,
And with that I will always be contented.

9. Älskaren i gluggen
    The Lover At The Window

There are many versions of this popular old song, with varying tunes and words. A young wife is singing a lullaby to her child. The words she sings carry a hidden message to her lover, who is standing outside and wanting to come in. The husband, who is at home, is not supposed to understand, but the lover is. A German version goes as far back as to the 16th century, and Swedish variants have been noted from the beginning of the 19th century. Triakel's version comes from the singing of Thyra Karlsson of östersund.

Yxan den sitter i knuten,
söta lilla vännen min,
och styggen han lagar stuten,
så ikväll får du inte gå in.

Tusselullagulla snälla,
som går till mig om kvälla,
som inte kan se att far är hemma,
far är hemma. Vyssan lullan lej.

Grålle går på ängen,
söta lilla vännen min.
Nu ligger gråskägg på sängen,
så du får inte gå in.

Tusselullagulla....

Jag ser ditt blåa öga,
söta lilla vännen min,
igenom fönstret höga,
men du får inte komma in.

Tusselullagulla...

Men fryser du om benen,
söta lilla vännen min,
så gå till fjöset till nöten,
där finnes brännevin.

Tusselullagulla...

Nyckeln den ligger på taket,
söta lilla vännen min,
men jag ser gråskägget vaket,
så du får inte komma in.

Tusselullagulla....

Jag måste väl något låta,
söta lilla vännen min,
så att de små ej ska gråta,
men du får inte komma in.

Tusselullagulla....

Men kom om lördagskväll,
söta lilla vännen min,
ty då är gråskägg borta,
han är i kvarnen sin.

Tusselullagulla.....

The axe is stuck in the gable
Pretty darling baby dear
And the old one's sitting at the table
So you'd better not come in here.

Hushabye oh my dear
When you come to me here
Don't you see, don't you hear
That Pa's at home now, Pa's at home now,
Hush now, baby dear.

The grey cat's out in the meadow,
Pretty darling baby dear
Grey whiskers is here in my bed-oh,
So you'd better not come in here.

I see your blue eyes gleaming,
Pretty darling baby dear,
Out there in the dark of the evening,
But you'd better not come in here.

But if you're cold and shivering
From standing at my door
In the barn there's a bottle of something
Will warm you up once more.

The key is under the doormat
Pretty darling baby dear
But himself hasn't started to snore yet
So you'd better not come in here.

I can't stop lullabying
Pretty darling baby dear
Or the little ones might start crying
But you'd better not come in here.

Come back on Saturday evening
Pretty darling baby dear -
Grey whiskers will be out working
At the mill a mile from here.

10. Nu haver denna dag
    Now One More Day

The tune of this hymn was collected by Erik Olsson, a schoolteacher in Myssjö, from the singing of Olof Eliasson of Häggen in Oviken, south-western Jämtland.

Nu haver denna dag
allt efter guds behag
sin ände även nått
och natten sömnens vän
har nu för oss igen
i ljusets rum uppstått.

O store herre gud
vars röst och stränga bud
allt lyda måsta här
du skapte dag och natt
när dagen gör mig matt
mig natten ro beskär.

O gud mig ej försmå
låt mig din nåde få
ty jag är svag och trött
men mörkrets makt är stor
dock du i höjden bor
gör att jag sover sött.

Min ögon slutas till
din ängel blid och mild
förordna du åstad
att hålla trogen vård
och stänga fastan gård
omkring min vilostad.

Min kläder klädas av
min synd o gud begrav
i Kristi sidosår
så skall min skröplighet
bli vänd i härlighet
när jag av jord uppstår.

Hur gladligt skall jag då
inför ditt anlet stå
uti en härlig skrud
och sjunga dig med fröjd
uti din himmels höjd
min herre och min gud.

Now one more day has passed
And, by God's will, at last
Made way for blessed night,
So we may sleep again
In peace and darkness, then
Awake to morning's light.

O Thou all-powerful Lord,
Whose every wish and word
All creatures must obey,
Thou madest day and night
So weary mortals might
Find rest for each new day.

Thy mercy now I seek,
For I am tired and weak -
O God, hear now my plea.
Though evil's power be strong,
Thou watchest all night long -
Send Thou sweet sleep to me.

Now that I close my eyes,
Send Thou down from the skies
Thine angel mild and blest
To hold the Fiend at bay
And keep all ill away
From where I lie at rest.

Just as the day I came
To this world's sin and shame,
Unclothed I kneel and pray:
By Christ's blood cleansed afresh,
May my poor feeble flesh
Rise up on Judgement Day.

Then in Thy presence bright,
Dressed in a robe of white
I'll stand up and rejoice.
In songs of thanks and praise,
Lord God, to Thee I'll raise
My new, immortal voice.

11. Den gråtande drängen
     The Farm Lad Who Cried

Emma has been singing different versions of this song since she was a teenager. This one comes from Levi Johansson of Frostviken.

Drängen han satt i trappan och grät,
grät gjorde han så svåra.
Pigan hon frågade honom då
vad honom fattas månde.
Ack om jag finge ligga i din säng
/ligg i min säng du stackars dräng/
gråt sedan aldrig mera.

Drängen han låg i sängen och grät,
grät gjorde han så svåra.
Pigan hon frågade honom då
vad honom fattas månde.
Ack om jag finge ligga på din arm
/ligg på min arm du stackars dräng/
gråt sedan aldrig mera.

Drängen han låg på armen och grät,
grät gjorde han så svåra.
Pigan hon frågade honom då
vad honom fattas månde.
Ack om jag finge ta på din jeit
/ta på min jeit du stackars dräng/
gråt sedan aldrig mera.

Drängen han tog på jeitn och grät,
grät gjorde han så svåra.
Pigan hon frågade honom då
vad honom fattas månde.
Ack om jag finge ta på din mus
/ta på min mus du stackars dräng/
gråt sedan aldrig mera.

Drängen han tog på musen och grät,
grät gjorde han så svåra.
Pigan hon frågade honom då
vad honom fattas månde.
Ack om jag finge sticka in min spjett
/stick in din spjett du stackars dräng/
gråt sedan aldrig mera.

Drängen han stack in spjettn och grät,
grät gjorde han så svåra.
Pigan hon frågade honom då
vad honom fattas månde.
Ack om jag finge jucka upp och ner
/jucka upp och ner du stackars dräng/
gråt sedan aldrig mera.

Drängen han jucka upp jucka ner,
grät gjorde han så svåra.
Pigan hon frågade honom då
vad honom fattas månde.
Ack om jag finge dra honom ut
/dra honom ut förbannade dräng/
hit kommer du aldrig mera.

The farm lad he sat in tears on the stair,
So wetly they poured and splattered.
The maid looked at him and saw his despair
And asked him what was the matter.
"If only you'd let me lie in your bed"
- "Lie in my bed, you poor lad," she said
"Lie in my bed, you poor lad," she said,
"And soon you'll be feeling better."

The farm lad he lay in tears in the bed,
So wetly they poured and splattered.
The maid looked at him and saw he was sad
And asked him what was the matter.
"If only your breast would pillow my head"
- "Pillow your head, you poor lad," she said,
"Pillow your head, you poor lad," she said,
"And soon you'll be feeling better."

The farm lad he lay in tears on her breast,
So wetly they poured and splattered.
The maid looked at him and saw his distress
And asked him what was the matter.
"If only you'd let me fondle you here"
- "Fondle me here, you poor lad," she said,
"Fondle me here, you poor lad," she said,
"And soon you'll be feeling better"

The farm lad he lay and fondled in tears,
So wetly they poured and splattered.
The maid looked at him and saw his despair,
And asked him what was the matter.
"If only you'd let me touch you down there"
- "Touch me down there, you poor lad," she said,
"Touch me down there, you poor lad," she said,
"And soon you'll be feeling better."

The farm lad he lay a-touching in tears,
So wetly they poured and splattered.
The maid looked at him and saw his despair,
And asked him what was the matter.
"If only you'd let me poke in my dick"
- "Poke in your dick, you poor lad," she said,
"Poke in your dick, you poor lad," she said,
"And soon you'll be feeling better."

The farm lad he lay in tears and he poked,
So wetly they poured and splattered.
The maid looked at him and saw how he choked
And asked him what was the matter.
"If only you'd let me jiggle up and down."
- "Jiggle up and down, you poor lad," she said,
"Jiggle up and down, you poor lad," she said,
"And soon you'll be feeling better."

The farm lad he lay and jiggled in tears,
So wetly they poured and splattered.
The maid looked at him and saw his despair
And asked him what was the matter.
"If only you'd let me pull him back out."
"Pull him back out, damn you!" she said.
"Pull him back out, damn you!" she said,
"And don't come back and see me ever!"

12. Bli som far
    In Your Father's Footsteps

A song by the late Jämtland actor and songwriter Allan Edwall -- maybe not one of his best-known, but definitely one of Triakel's favorites.

Det är såhär min käre lille son,
att vill du bli så duktig som din far,
ge noga akt på var vinden blåser från
och håll dig väl med den som makten har.
Då ska du sent om sider nå det mål
som sent om sider också pappa nådde.
Och liksom pappa, när han illa mådde
ska magen lugnas med Novalukol.

Till skänks får mänskan ingenting, min son.
Man får betala för vart steg man tar.
Och idealen växer man ifrån.
Och byxlös far man gå med rumpan bar.
Men gör som far, och allting går i lås,
och då ska aldrig pappa vara lessen,
för om du delar chefernas intressen
du ärver pappas hus och hans nevros.

Svälj din förtret, glöm trolöshet och svek.
Var aldrig lessen, käre lille son.
Du finner tröst på närmsta apotek
emot förnedring, tarvlighet och hån.
Då ska du bli precis vad pappa blev.
Dit pappa klev, dit ska du också kliva.
Dit vinden blåser ska du också driva
för samma vindar som din pappa drev.

Svälj din förtret -- ta skeLn i vacker hand
när makten trampar på din ömma tå.
Du lever i ett demokratiskt land
där du kan välja sätt att trampas på.
Då ska du bli precis vad pappa blev.
Dit pappa klev, dit ska du också kliva.
Dit vinden blåser ska du också driva
för samma vindar som din pappa drev.

If you're to do as well as me, my son,
You'll learn to slip and slide with each new trend.
Think of which side your bread is buttered on,
Smile at your boss as if he was your friend.
And if your efforts to control yourself succeed,
Then, like your dad's, your career will be successful,
And like your dad, when things got kind of stressful,
Your can get pills for your ulcers when they bleed.

There's nothing free of charge in life, my son.
You have to pay for every step you take.
Ideals are fine when you are twenty-one,
But they're no use to a man who's on the make.
Play as your dad has played his whole life through
The bosses' game, and force yourself to bear it,
So that one happy day you can inherit
My house and money, and my neurosis too.

Swallow your pride and never make a fuss
When you're insulted, cheated or betrayed
There is a pharmacy not far from us
Well-stocked with stuff to take the pain away.
What dad became is what you're going to be,
The road I took is there for you to follow.
Where I was yesterday, you'll be tomorrow,
Riding the same rough tide that carried me.

Swallow your pride, don't grumble if you lose
Against the ones with power to keep you down.
Our free democracy means you can choose
Your favourite way of being pushed around.
What I became is what you're going to be,
The road I took is there for you to follow.
Where I was yesterday, you'll be tomorrow,
Riding the same rough tide that carried me.

13. Tordyveln / Polska
    The Dung Beetle's Wedding

A song that seems to have been common throughout Scandinavia. Our version was collected by Karl Bohlin in Hammerdal. Verse 5 is from the singing of Märta Lindkvist of östersund, and verse 6 comes from the related song about “The Cleg and the Fly,” which Emma's mother used to sing to her when she was a child. The fiddle tune that follows is a polska learned from Kristian Oskarsson of Björkede.

Tordyveln flög i flugeland.
-- Tramtridelitrumma
Han vill ha flugan till äkta stånd.
-- Med rosor och med blomma

å du och jag är inte lik
när du är fattig så är jag rik.

å när du sitter i dyngekas
så sitter jag uppå herrefat.

å när du sitter i dyngerus
så sitter jag på ett fruekrus.

Men deras bröllop blev int stort
för det hölls på en hästelort.

Men där blev bröllop i flugans hus
-- Tramtridellitrumma
där spelte loppa och dansa lus.
-- Med rosor och med blomma

Dung beetle flew to the flies' country
- Ding ding goes the bell-o -
"Oh pretty fly, will you marry me?"
- How sweet the roses smell-o -

"But you are not a match for me,
For I'm an insect of high degree.

"While you are creeping amongst the muck,
I'm drinking wine from a lady's cup.

"While you are crawling amongst the shit,
Upon a lord's dinner plate I sit."

They held their wedding small and poor
Upon a pile of horse manure.

But at the feast in the bridal house
- Ding ding goes the bell-o -
They played and danced, every flea and louse.
- How sweet the roses smell-o -

14. Långmasaguten
    Young Ricky Rider

“Lumberjack romance!” was Ulrika Lindholm's comment on this catchy little bawdy song after recording it for Swedish Radio.

Långmasaguten från Rekarne rände
till långmasatorpet i fullaste fläng
och när han kom till dörren
så sparka han och slängde
min svärmor min svärmor nu är jag här igen
och är du nu här du Andreas du lille
du ska ha Marja det låter inte illa
hoppsan suliallanlej trallala...

Och kussemora lilla låg på ugna å morra
hur länge ska långmasen gå här och hm hm
minns jag det rätt så var han här igår
och långmasen upp till att dundra och svärja
ska jag ha Marja så ska jag henne hm hm
hoppsan suliallanlej trallala...

Och rätt som hon låg där med låra och darra
så satte han i henne rödaste Bo
och det gjorde gott trallala uti magen
det kan jag ha nytta utav ja hela dagen
hoppsan suliallanlej trallala...

Young Ricky Rider came ranting and roaring
Down from the hills to the Petersons' shack.
He barged up the steps and he battered the door in,
Says "Hey, Ma Peterson, the Rider's back!"
"Is that you, Ricky?" says the Ma with a giggle,
"Jeannie's there waiting in her room by the stable."
- Just another quick one and then I have to go.

And little pussy Patsy sat by the fireside,
"How often is the Rider going to come here and hm hm?
He's here every day and he's pushing his luck."
And young Ricky's hollering and jumping and bucking,
"I'm going in to Jeannie and we're going to do some hm hm."
- Just another quick one and then I have to go.

And while she was lying there squirming and heaving,
In came Ricky with big red Joe.
"Oh," says Jeannie, "I like that feeling,
That'll keep me smiling from morning till evening."
- Just another quick one and then I have to go.

15. Farväl alla vänner
    Farewell To You All

An evening hymn from the chapel in Viken, as sung at the end of the service there by Daniel Larsson junior. Kjell-Erik's grandmother, Anna Eriksson of Jormlien, kept the song alive and passed it on.

Farväl alla vänner båd stora och små
som här nu församlade äro.
Vi bedja att ingen av oss saknas må
hos gud i den himmelska glädjen.
Där helgonen sjunga halelulja lov
och brudgummen väntar på bruden.

Farväl alla vänner båd stora och små
kan hända är det nu sista gången.
Som vi här få sjunga guds lov med varann
uppå denna syndiga jorden.
Bed flitigt bed troget ack bed kära själ
att vi må i himmelen mötas.

Farewell to you all now, dear friends, old and young,
who sit here in worship united.
We pray that we all may be there in that throng,
at God's side rejoicing in heaven,
where saints sing hallelujah in praise of His name
and the Bridegroom awaits His beloved.

Farewell to you all now, dear friends, young and old,
this day may be the last time we are gathered
amongst all the sorrows and sins of this world
to sing and to praise God together.
Be steadfast, be faithful, and pray, every soul,
that we may reunited be in heaven.

16. I Jamtlann
    Jämtland

A poem by Anna Carlsson put to music by Ingvar örner of Gothenburg. Anna, from Bonäset near Strömsund, was his wife's grandmother. A number of obscure dialect words led to a discussion with dialect expert Bo Oscarsson, who quickly reshaped the lyrics into two different dialects. We chose the one in central Jämtland dialect because it suited Emma better.

I Jamtlann, der trivs je som alle bäst
För der går'e lätt te laeva
å dagan dom e föjan som n fest.
Om vårn då bjårskan sava
då blomman kom opp å gaukjen gel
å bonn vänn jorla mae plogja
då kynnan gaul å gjettran skvel
å vill bortt på lauta i skogja.

I buom skull geitmjalka kjeses jamt
å ulla skull kales å spinnes.
Te gjaera liman va knapusamt
å stråmpan å teljan skull binnes
maen når de lei mot kvälla å timen va sein
då gjekk kauken ut öve lauta
når butausan sto på var senn stein
å lokke heim småfi å nauta.

På myrn de va svettut å hett
å dagaman shlo mae lia
å rakstra holl eett å raka å brett
imilla tuvom å via.
I laom sav mae mest som n stokk
fast mya sjångle kring öra
Mae lure in huvu ti n rokk
de va knafft man då shlapp mae hör'a.

Om vintren va snöu å kall å lång
så gjekk e no våra te mötes
å spinnrokk å vevstol skull vae i gång
å kreka skull mjalkes å skjötes.
å tånnbrö skull bakas å korven vål gjortt
å sänghalmen tröskes mae shlagun
om laurdan skull vitgolve skures fortt
för saeaen va're halgj ti stugun.

Jämtland is where my heart's most at ease
There's peace there and simple living.
In spring, when the leaves are young on the trees,
Each day's like a taste of heaven.
The farmer is out and works at his plough,
The woods round the farm are ringing
With bleating of goats and lowing of cows
And, far off, the cuckoo's singing.

In summer there's wool to be carded and spun
, And stockings and socks to knit then,
There's milking and churning each day to be done
And besoms of birch to be woven.
Then late in the day the milkmaids all stood
Outside as the night was falling
To bring home the cows and goats from the woods
With the sound of their clear, shrill calling.

And out on the moor the hired hand would toil,
His scythe through the tough grass shearing
Would cut back the stubble down to the soil
Till sweat from his face came streaming.
And up in the barn we'd sleep summer nights
While bugs plagued us by the dozen.
With coats round our ears wrapped up thick and tight
We'd still hear mosquitos buzzing.

The winters were cold and snowy and dark,
But each day, from morn till evening,
The beasts and the milking kept us at work,
The spinning and the weaving.
We'd sausage to make and fresh bread to bake,
And beds to keep fresh and tidy
We'd kneel on the floor and scrub till we ached
To clean up the house for Sunday.


Return to Triakel Songs From 63 Degrees N.

© 2004 East Side, Inc.