duménega [English translation]

1

When, on Sundays, they take their tour,

new hat, new dress,

with the mistress, the mistress leading them,

oh what a fucking feast, oh what a fucking feast.

Everyone is close to the parade

of the Teresina of the Teresone,

everyone looking at the devil’s daughters,

what a fucking job, what a fucking job.

About this wobbling of thighs and titties,

even the youngest kids make a din:

«Mum, mum, give me the money,

I wanna go to the brothel, I wanna go to the brothel!»

The farther they get into the city,

the more the eyes and the voices have a go at them;

they tell them the things they can’t say

on Thursdays, on Saturdays, and on Mondays.

In Pianderlino, cocksuckers.

At the river’s mouth, thighs like nutcrackers.

In Carignano, third-hand pussies.

And in Ponticello, they show them their dicks.

In Pianderlino, cocksuckers.

At the river’s mouth, thighs like nutcrackers.

In Carignano, third-hand pussies.

And in Ponticello, they show them their dicks.

And the harbor director, who sees gold

in those butt cheeks resting from their work,

not to show how happy he is

that the new quay has its funding,

he blends in with the confusion,

and he shouts, shouts at them:

«You are whores and you’ll always be!»

And you who are yelling at them,

not even your nose is pristine,

you fucking Christ-bearer asshole;

you aren’t the only one who has noticed

that among those creatures

who make their living by getting naked

there is, there is, there is, there is,

there is your wife too.

In Pianderlino, cocksuckers.

At the river’s mouth, thighs like nutcrackers.

In Carignano, third-hand pussies.

And in Ponticello, they show them their dicks.

In Pianderlino, cocksuckers.

At the river’s mouth, thighs like nutcrackers.

In Carignano, third-hand pussies.

And in Ponticello, they show them their dicks.

1. In the Republic of Genoa, prostitutes could do their job only in one district of the city. However, on Sundays, they could go around the whole city, to show and ‟advertise” themselves. It seems that the income for the city - from the taxes on prostitution - was so high that it was enough to fully pay for the expenditures in the docks.

The song is about the fake morality that thrives around prostitution: everyone is prude, even those who meet with prostitutes or earn money from their work.