Anastasie Vondra

“Czechs stripped feathers, everything that came in the summer, so they wouldn’t lose them, the geese, their feathers, they plucked them and put them in duvets, you know... And then in December when it was, before the new year, we got together in a group, that was Mum, I came, Grandma too... one... to the first we came to strip feathers, we’d strip the feathers - then we came to the next, and Grandma kept telling us stories - oh, what stories they were, terrible... and what work I had with the sheep, cold it was, nothing proper to wear, and so... we came - we’re nodding, nodding, well... children, children, running all the time... and the boys caught some live sparrows and let them loose in the cottage, and the feathers blew all over... that’s how cheeky they were... But could you hold it against them? No! And boys... my hubby was also Czech, he...”

“Uhlans ride o’er the water, oh, their pretty horses go, horses go! Uhlans ride o’er the water, oh, their pretty horses go! My love she does follow them, her sweet blue eyes a-wiping, a-wiping. My love she does follow them, her sweet blue eyes a-wiping. Sweet blue eyes, go to sleep, to wake up in the morning, the morning! Sweet blue eyes, go to sleep, to wake up in the morning! Early morning, morning, morn, right before the sun comes up, sun comes up. Early morning, morning, morn, right before the sun comes up. When the sun has risen up, my loved one is a-walking, a-walking. When the sun has risen up, my loved one is a-walking. Walking up and down the square, all the boys some news to bear. Such a piece of news it is, that the army is drafting, is drafting. Such a piece of news it is, that the army is drafting. If they’re drafting, they will go, such a pity of the beaus, of the beaus. If they’re drafting, they will go, such a pity of the beaus. Pretty boys... (end of singing) There we, when... well, when we drink a tad of rum... (singing) Pretty boys to the wenches, ugly ones to the farmers. Oh, what wife for a cobbler, perhaps a humpbacked hobbler, a hobbler, oh, what wife for a cobbler, perhaps a humpbacked hobbler. (end of singing) I like this song because my father-in-law was a shoemaker. Well, and he was kind of... hunched, and the older of my sons was also hunched... And then, well, back then cobblers weren’t held in respect, and even as a daughter-in-law I said: Oh, what wife for a cobbler, perhaps a humpbacked hobbler. Well, as you can see, now, one must respect a person who’s a cripple, and before - it was reckoned that only a cobbler had to marry a humpback, a cripple perhaps. So, what wife for a cobbler, any wife, perhaps a humpbacked hobbler.”