This is a song, not like the others you know from this band
This is a story, not like the others, rageous and sad
But it must be told, though you could say it´s old,
But it happened in the country that I live in
It´s the story of man named Rukelie
Kind of lasts till now, therefore I´m singing:
1907, he was born to a German Sinto family
He became a boxer, when he was older,
and the fans nicknamed him Rukelie
He was known for the show, even during the fight
He communicated with the girls in the first row
And his style was unseen, dance, dodge and speed,
Some thousand came to see him win in the box halls
His roots have always brought him trouble
But then in ´33 the Nazis came to power
Their blond tall heros were hit to k.o.
By a Gypsy, so he became a danger
Only the audience stopped the referees to cheat him
When he won the championship, but some days later
They took the title away again, the tears of victory
Had been miserable behaviour
Next fight, they said to him: "Gypsy if you dare to win,
We´re going to get your family!"
Cause they knew how much he loved them
He entered the ring, hair dyed blond, body dusted with flour
His silent protest, he without defending,
let himself be beaten to the ground
He had to leave his family and hide in the woods,
But they found him, and send him to the frontline
And then to a concentration camp,
when they found him come backe alive
"Show what you can!" said the guards when they trashed
The powerless man, and one night
He was shot to death and sank into the mud,
he had defended himself a last time
In this time was there anybody asking when they heard
Of the fate of Rukelie and a million more?
And what's taking place in today's Nazis
Is there any kind of feeling, a heart, a soul?
My shame for the past and present, my rage,
My violence on you in this song
And now just for you idiots:
La musique de la résistance!
Swing!
This is a story, not like the others, rageous and sad
But it must be told, though you could say it´s old,
But it happened in the country that I live in
It´s the story of man named Rukelie
Kind of lasts till now, therefore I´m singing:
1907, he was born to a German Sinto family
He became a boxer, when he was older,
and the fans nicknamed him Rukelie
He was known for the show, even during the fight
He communicated with the girls in the first row
And his style was unseen, dance, dodge and speed,
Some thousand came to see him win in the box halls
His roots have always brought him trouble
But then in ´33 the Nazis came to power
Their blond tall heros were hit to k.o.
By a Gypsy, so he became a danger
Only the audience stopped the referees to cheat him
When he won the championship, but some days later
They took the title away again, the tears of victory
Had been miserable behaviour
Next fight, they said to him: "Gypsy if you dare to win,
We´re going to get your family!"
Cause they knew how much he loved them
He entered the ring, hair dyed blond, body dusted with flour
His silent protest, he without defending,
let himself be beaten to the ground
He had to leave his family and hide in the woods,
But they found him, and send him to the frontline
And then to a concentration camp,
when they found him come backe alive
"Show what you can!" said the guards when they trashed
The powerless man, and one night
He was shot to death and sank into the mud,
he had defended himself a last time
In this time was there anybody asking when they heard
Of the fate of Rukelie and a million more?
And what's taking place in today's Nazis
Is there any kind of feeling, a heart, a soul?
My shame for the past and present, my rage,
My violence on you in this song
And now just for you idiots:
La musique de la résistance!
Swing!
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