Faceva il palo - He Was a Lookout

Faceva il palo nella banda dell'Ortiga Ma l’era sguercio, non ci vedeva quasi più Ed è stato così che li han presi senza fatica Li han presi tutti... tutti, tutti, tutti, fuori che lui Lui era fisso che scrutava nella notte Quando gli passato davanti a lui un carabinier Insomma on ghisa, trii carriba e on metronotte Gnanca una piega lù l'ha fà, gnanca un plissé Faceva il palo della banda dell'Ortiga Faceva il palo perchè l'era el sò mestee Così precisi come quelli della Mascherpa Sono restati lì i suoi amici, a vedere i carabinier Han detto: «Ma come, porco Giuda, mondo cane: Il nostro palo, brutta bestia, ma dov'è?» Lui era fisso che scrutava nella notte Ha visto nulla, ma in compens l'ha sentii nient Perché a vederci non vedeva un'autobotte Però a sentirci ghe sentiva on accident Faceva il palo della banda dell'Ortiga Faceva il palo perché l'era el sò mestee Ci sono stati pugni, spari, grida e botte J'hann menaa via che l'era giamò quasi mezzdì Lui sempre fisso, lì, a scrutare nella notte Perchè el ghe vedeva istess de nòtt come ‘n del dì Ed è li ancora come un palo nella via La gente guarda, gli dà cento lire e poi, poi va Lui, circospetto, guarda in giro e mette via Ma poi borbotta, perché ormai l'è un po' arrabbià Ed è arrabbiato con la banda dell'Ortiga Perché lui dice: «Non si fa così a rubar» Dice: «Ma come, a me mi lascian qui di fuori E loro, loro chissà quand'è che vengon su E poi il bottino me lo portano su a cento lire Un po' per volta, ma a far così non finiamo più Nò, nò, quest chì è pròppi on lavorà de stupid Io sono un palo, non un bamba, non ci sto più Io vengo via da questa banda di sbarbati Mi metto in proprio, così non ci penso più» Faceva il palo della banda dell'Ortiga Faceva il palo perché l'era el sò mestee Faceva il palo della banda dell'Ortiga Faceva il palo perché l'era el sò mestee Faceva il palo © 1966 Enzo Jannacci, Walter Valdi "Faceva il palo" was written by the cabaret artist Walter Valdi, and Jannacci reworked the music for his rendition. The song tells of a group of thieves who assign one of their own to be on the lookout, but due to his near blindness the thieves are caught. The lookout, unaware, remains resolute, and passersby start giving him small handouts, thinking he's in need, while he thinks the fruits of the theft are being given to him piecemeal. Upset, he decides to leave his gang and strike out on his own. Ortica is a district in Milan, and Mascherpa was probably a Milanese maker of watches.

He was the lookout in the gang of Ortica, but he was cross-eyed, he could barely see straight. And it was such that they took things effortlessly, they took everything . . . everything, everything, everything, except for him. He was unmoving as he peered into the night, when a policeman passed right in front of him - well, a traffic cop, three police, and a night watchman. Not even a crease did he make, not even a wrinkle. He was the lookout for the gang of Ortica, he was the lookout because it was his occupation. So precise, like those of Mascherpa, they stayed there, his friends, to see the policemen. They said, “But what gives, dirty Judas, dog’s world: our lookout – ugly beast, but where is he?” He was unmoving as he peered into the night. He saw no one, but in return he heard nothing, because as for seeing us, he didn’t see a tanker truck. But as for hearing us, he didn’t hear a damn thing. He was the lookout for the gang of Ortica, he was the lookout because it was his occupation. There were punches, shots, shouts and hits. They took us away ‘cause it was almost noon already. Him, always stationary, there, to peer into the night, because he saw the same by night as by day. And he’s still there like a sentry on the road. The people look, give him a hundred lira and then, then go. He, circumspect, looks around and puts it away, but then grumbles, because now he’s a little mad. And he’s mad at the gang of Ortica, because, he says, “It’s not done this way, to steal.” He says, “But how come they leave me here outside and they, they . . . who knows when they'll show up? And then the loot, they bring me by a hundred lira, a little at a time, but doing it this way we’ll never finish. No, no, this here is just a job by dummies. I am a lookout, not a sucker, I’m not doing this anymore. I’m walking out on this band of hacks. I’m starting out on my own, so I don’t care anymore. He was the lookout for the gang of Ortica, he was the lookout because it was his occupation. He was the lookout for the gang of Ortica, he was the lookout because it was his occupation. English translation © 2020 Dennis Criteser Sei minuti all'alba is Jannacci's second album, released in 1966. The title track was dedicated to Jannacci's father, who fought as a partisan in and around Milan.