Philosophische Betrachtungen beim Heurigen

 

Da gibts di an, di gern sinniern

und stü ins Weiglasl einestiern.

Stü hockens wo in ana Eckn

und tuan de Surgn min Wei zuadecken.

 

Am Tisch danem sitzt a Liebespoar,

er mit an Schwaf, se hot blaue Hoar,

hom wenig Zeit für a Glasl Wein,

weu sa se gegenseitig einekreun.

 

Zwa oide Fraun san am Nochbortisch,

schaun bes ume zu de zwa Bockfisch.

"Siachst, Resi, es is heit nimma schen,

kannst net moi mehr zum Heirigen gehn!"

 

De Resi hat des nicht richtig ghert,

denn da weans von an aundern Tisch gstert.

A Gsöschaft unterhoit si so laut,

das da Resi de urwaschln einhaut.

 

Zwa aundare ham ka Zeit zum Stiern,

weus grod a Bochhendl schnabuliern.

Er hat a Waumpn, de is net schwoch,

oba sei Oide steht eam net noch.

 

Fia uns is des wia a Cabaret,

beobachtn, mochn unsre Schmäh.

Dafia brauch ma ka Eintrittskoatn,

nur auf de nächsten Typen woatn.

Philosophising at the Wine Bar

 

There are those who like to sit and think

Staring silently into their drink.

No noise – in the corner, for a time,

Drowning their sorrows in their wine.

 

On the table next, there’s quite the pair,

With his ponytail and her blue hair.

There’s no time for getting yourself pissed

Who’d have wine instead of a kiss?

 

Two old women, sitting nearby,

Are shooting the snoggers evil eyes.

“Things have changed, Resi, and that’s for sure,

You can’t go to the wine bar anymore!”

 

But Resi barely hears a word,

Since other punters, just as absurd,

Scream without even a shred of respect,

While Resi goes from half to fully deaf.

 

Without the time to stare, two other guests

Are busy gnawing a chicken breast.

His belly is majestically wide

And just as bad – his tubby wife.

 

For us it’s like a stand-up gig

All we have to do is laugh and sit.

We don’t need a ticket for the show

Just watch the people come and go.