Pazarbaşı - Edip Akbayram

Pazarbaşı, bu ne pazar gardaşım

Hesap kitap yoktur, soyan soyana

Gözler yaşlı yaşlı, cepler kuraklı

Sorgu sual yoktur kıyan kıyana

Sorgu sual yoktur kıyan kıyana

Binbir bela ile yetişen ürün

Samandan değersiz şu hali görün

Demek bize lanet size aferin

Oy alıp söz verip, cayan cayana

Oy alıp söz verip, cayan cayana

Bir ceket etmiyor, memur maaşı

Kimler kaldıracak bu ağır taşı

Ovaları sular oldu gözyaşı

Ulu, dağ başından, kayan kayana

Senede bulamaz bir kilo eti

Fakiremi inmiş hakkın laneti?

Kimlerin terinden, kimin serveti

Allah için desin duyan duyana

Allah için desin duyan duyana

Hastaneler dönüp tümende hasta

Dörtte biri öldü nerdesin usta

Böyle davranılmaz en büyük dosta

Yetimler hakından doyan doyana

Yetimler hakından doyan doyana

Der mahsuni, saysan dertler ondan çok

Kimi hırsız, kimi açtır, kimi tok

Bizde sabır bitti sizde vicdan yok

Nice beddualar sayan sayana

Bizde sabır bitti sizde vicdan yok

Nice beddualar sayan sanaya

Bizde sabır bitti…

Pazarbaşı, what is this Sunday?

There is no account book, robbed robbed

The eyes are weepy, the pockets are dry

There is no question to question

There is no question to question

The product that grows with a thousand and one troubles

See this state that is worthless than straw

So damn us well done to you

By voting and making a promise,

By voting and making a promise,

Not a jacket, officer salary

Who will lift this heavy stone?

The plains became waters of tears

Great, from the mountain top to the floating rock

A kilo of meat cannot be found in a year

The curse of the right that descended on my poor?

Whose sweat, whose wealth

For God's sake, say to those who hear

For God's sake, say to those who hear

Hospitals turn around and patients in the division

A quarter is dead, where are you, master?

That's not how you treat your best friend

Orphans are satisfied with their rights

Orphans are satisfied with their rights

Der mahsuni, the troubles you say are more than him

Some are thieves, some are hungry, some are full

Our patience is over, you don't have a conscience

Nice curses to the one who counts

Our patience is over, you don't have a conscience

To you who counts many curses

We have run out of patience...