As a execrated prince
Beyond the Pacific,
Mr. Pal Pato, by himself,
Lives morosely in his village.
How different life would be
If a young wife...
My Pal Pato interrupts this:
"Eh, we have time for that yet!"
The house is in a dilapidated condition,
the plaster is peel ing off,
And God knows where the wind
Now flys with a shingle,
Lets us repair it, for by and by
The sky shall look in through the attic...
Mr Pal Pato interrupts this:
"Eh, we have time for that yet!"
The garden is bare, in its place
The arable land eautifully blooms,
Every variety of poppy
Blooms plentifully in it, but
Why do all those tenents just lay around?
Why are the plows still?
Mr. Pal Pato interrupts this:
"Eh, we have time for that yet!"
And the cloak, and the pants,
They are threadbare, just like him,
Even as a mosquito net they
Would do only as a lat resort:
The tailor must be called,
The cloth has been bought a long time ago...
Mr. Pal Pato interrupts this:
"Eh, we have time for that yet!"
This is the way he vegetates through life,
Through his father
Left so much for him,
He never has anything.
But this is not fault:
He was born a Hungarian,
And the ancient slogan in his homeland is:
"Eh, we have time for that yet!"