[Verse 1: Csárdás male lead, fierce, galloping drums and violin runs] Saturday, the csárda, there's paprika in the air Every table full of farmers and the smoke above the chairs Band begins the lassú like the old men want it played Slow and sad and dignified, a funeral parade And Ilona's by the window with a glass she never drinks She just listens to the slow part and she sits and thinks Then the minute that we turn it, when the friss is comin' through She is up and out the door like she had somethin' else to do [Hook: Csárdás male lead, full band, cimbalom hammering] Skip the slow part, gyere, I been slow for seven years Every Saturday you left before the fast part reached your ears So tonight I cut the sweet stuff and I put my bow on fire Skip the slow part, Ilona, I'm takin' this one higher [Verse 2: Csárdás male lead, harder, cimbalom pounding] Seven years I played it slower, thought the slow would make her stay Stretched it out so long the farmers fell asleep across their tray Old Laci on the bass said, "Boy, you slow it any more, it stops" And Ilona left the same as ever, right before the drop So I lay awake on Thursday and I figured out the sin She don't hate the fast part, she just hates the waitin' to begin She's been sittin' through the slow part for a man who never moves So hajrá, this Saturday I got nothin' left to lose [Hook: Csárdás male lead, full band, cimbalom hammering] Skip the slow part, gyere, I been slow for seven years Every Saturday you left before the fast part reached your ears So tonight I cut the sweet stuff and I put my bow on fire Skip the slow part, Ilona, I'm takin' this one higher [Verse 3: Csárdás male lead, snapped string, the violin cracks a string mid-run and the band slams in harder] Saturday, the farmers settle, Laci lifts his bow to start And I kick the whole band past it, straight into the beatin' heart Old men droppin' forks, the cimbalom is smokin', tables shake And Ilona's at the door, her coat half on, and she don't take One more step, she turns around, she drops the coat across a chair And she's spinnin' on the floorboards with paprika in her hair Hajrá! Then the top string snaps and cuts a line across my face And I play it on the three that's left, I never lose the pace [Final Hook: Csárdás male lead, full band, everything galloping] Skip the slow part, gyere, I been slow for seven years Every Saturday you left before the fast part reached your ears So tonight I cut the sweet stuff and I put my bow on fire Skip the slow part, Ilona, I'm takin' this one higher [End]
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