Nasza Slawa

When Mordenvale hosted November Coronet, they ran into a minor bit of trouble with the caretakers of the Polish Club where the feast was held. I think the poor dears couldn’t handle the idea of a bunch of young folk in Newcastle gathering together with alcohol and music and not trashing the place. I decided to write a song of how we responded to their nastiness. Thanks to Maria Tarlowski, a speaker of Polish, I managed to include a line in genuine 100% guaranteed Polish. It’s the second last verse; the last verse is the rough translation (strictly it’s “when this hall has crumbled into the dust, our legend will still stand”). The tune is a Polish folk song, as modified by a 20th century Polish composer named Gorecki.

Rough pronunciation guide: “Nasza slawa przetrwa gruzy waszego domu” is /NAH-sha SWAH-va PSHET-rva GROO-zy va- SHEH-go do-MOO/, more or less.

[December 1997]

Spring, with a true lover’s hand,
Held to her heart all the land.
All who would answer her call
Gathered in one mighty hall.

Three times its master appears,
Withered in spirit and years.
Called he for strong lantern light,
‘Though all the candles were bright.

Young was the night when he spoke;
All peace and plenty he broke:
“Strangers, you know not my trust.
“Leave and depart now, you must!”

No Lord or Lady would shirk,
Each gave their all to the work.
Barely an hour was past
When all was tidy at last.

Nasza slawa przetrwa
Gruzy waszego domu.
Nasza slawa przetrwa
Gruzy waszego domu.

When to the dust you are gone,
This story still will live on.
When to the dust you are gone,
This story still will live on.