(Hey, hey)
When my mother gave birth to me (my little bottle)
She tied the bottle to my neck (my little bottle)
And she swore me
Not to take it off my neck
Be cursed you, mayor,
You had poles raised in the street
When I come in the evening
They seem like people in the fog
I stop and I talk to them
I treat them with a sip
And it's not my sin, really
They invite me to drink as well
When my mother gave birth to me (my little bottle)
She tied the bottle to my neck (my little bottle)
And she swore me
Not to take it off my neck
Not to take it off my neck
Till it puts me into the grave