This is a story that I very much enjoy telling
It's the story of Boža AKA The Jack.
Some sing him praises, others pity him
Yet others say: "Oh, brother,
He was as rotten as a hollow tooth."
From here all the way to Budapest and to Srem in the south
Stories about him are still told in shady gambling circles
And they say: "He never played on credit in his life!"
And they all agree that these days
There are none like Boža The Jack
He had some land somewhere, that was more-or-less known
Even though he never said a word about it
He was supposed to be a veterinarian, but he was having none of it
So he lived off gambling all his life
Oh, that man followed cards as if he saw through them
Always cool as spritzer, always dangerously silent
And only when warding off bad luck he'd say a verse
And everybody still remembers the words for warding off bad luck
As said by Boža The Jack
Money won't help you, my dear nephews*
And neither will good will
Not your stern gazes, and not your sticky fingers
I still cheat a little better
Yes, that is so!
But the card is a whore, excuse my French
Because I just tell it as I hear it
And if I was lied to, then I'm lying to you now
Everybody knows this story, from the devil to the priest
For many scoundrels were left with nothing
There's a gambler hiding and lurking in every one of us
And waiting for the right moment
He once played cards with some Russian emigrant
That was a loan shark as rich as a prince
There was also the postmaster, endearingly called Ljupče
And some smuggler that the whole district was looking for
Oh, that was a game, stories are still told
Onlookers in trance, cold sweat breaking
A heap of money on the table, let's not mention the amount
And he drew a queen on eighteen*
Cool as ice, Boža The Jack
Have you heard about the time when he played with a certain baron
For four days? That was war!
He had strong cards all the time, so he won a carriage
A black horse, a cigarette case, a walking stick and a watch
The baron later complained that the deck was old
That he drank too much, that he was caught up in the excitement
But all the losers moan, that's a well known thing
And everybody loses at least sometimes
But never Boža The Jack
Money won't help you, my dear nephews
And neither will good will...
In matters of love, he was no Tarzan
But he was by no means a hare
He had some ladies here and there, but we all know very well
That what counts with women is some fifth ace
Love is a game in which bluffing often doesn't work
A heart is harder to get into than the best safe
He had his ladies of diamonds, spades, hearts and clubs
And he remained faithful to them
Until the judgement day, Boža The Jack
My dear gentlemen, he disappeared without a trace
Giving the whole story a weird tone
Some horse traders swore that near Sombor they met
Some guy that looked exactly like him
Maybe cards took him all the way to Prague or Vienna
Nobody's heard a word about him for a long time
Is he still hanging around on Earth or has he thrown in the towel
And now plays with angels in heaven
Raub, Préférence and Pontoon*
Money won't help you, my dear nephews
And neither will good will...