Pecchè, pecchè, pecchè nun truov’ pace?
E chistu cor’ ossaje se dispiace,
‘o male che me fatte
je te perdon’,
ognun’è malament’ ognun’è bbuone.
Serenate a fronn’e limone
e ghià affacciat’a chistu balcon’
e si ‘o bene annasconn’e parol’, je te vogli’accussì
e nun me’mport ‘e niente!
Serenata… me siente!
(Grazie Mario S. per questo testo)
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