| The blood is warm and red
|
| The wine is warm and sweet
|
| Three high school students at Molin's fountain
|
| It was Lundin and me
|
| And Harald Blom was there
|
| Under Kungsträdgården's deciduous woods
|
| Lundin quoted Clarté
|
| And Blom he drove with his Lenin
|
| But I got no good idea
|
| So I, I took a sip of red wine
|
| Forward at twelve o'clock
|
| Get the nobility out
|
| In evening dress and lacquer from the opera cellar
|
| We were there with a leap
|
| And open our mouths
|
| In this song
|
| Bourgeoisie it's fat pigs
|
| Caviar and champagne
|
| Nice white tablecloths
|
| We will pink in your wine
|
| We will hang you in your…
|
| Yes, but time passed
|
| The blood is cold and tired
|
| The wine is expensive and red
|
| Three businessmen in the opera cellar
|
| It was Lundin and me
|
| And wait, Harald Blom was actually there
|
| A la carte menyn, ta hit den
|
| Lundin took wine with a rough bouquet
|
| And Blom he drove with his reindeer wine
|
| But I took a herring table as an entrance
|
| So I ordered beer and brandy
|
| Well, forward to twelve o'clock
|
| When we get out, the constable understands
|
| By this, by this, by this Molin's fountain, yes, just that
|
| There stood a bearded gang
|
| And opened his mouth
|
| With wild screams
|
| The bourgeoisie it was fat pigs
|
| And they had views that we ate on white tablecloths
|
| They would contaminate our wine
|
| And not only that, hang us in our… yes
|
| But time passed
|
| The blood is cooler
|
| Life is paid
|
| Three elderly gentlemen at Molin's fountain
|
| It's Lundin and me
|
| And Harald Blom is with us
|
| Under Kungsträdgården's deciduous woods
|
| Lundin he feels passé
|
| And Blom is prematurely retired
|
| And I've learned what life is like
|
| When the gold bell is rung
|
| There come the men of today
|
| The young lions
|
| Small pumps from the opera cellar
|
| Then we'll go there
|
| And then we sing our piece yes
|
| Again
|
| Bourgeoisie it's fat pigs
|
| Caviar and champagne
|
| Nice white tablecloths
|
| We will pink in your wine
|
| We will hang you in your ties |