Røtter - Halvdan Sivertsen

Æ tok farvel med dem der hjemme, førr å finn ut kem æ e

Finn ut kor æ kommer fra og kor æ høre te

Langs den endeløse veien, en mann og hans gitar

Mens ensomheten reiv og sleit, og æ drakk angsten bar

Æ leita etter røtter blant kirkegårdens støtter

Æ levd' av bær og nøtter

Men alt æ fant va Roots

Æ trudd' æ hadde røtter

Blant fiskera og krøtter

Æ trudd' æ hadde føtter

Men alt æ fant va Boots

Og mellom bedehus og båta, stev og folkeviseleik

Blant gammeldans og slåtta gikk æ sortkledd, taus og bleik

Førr alt det rotekte og enkle, det som e folkelig og bra

Det hadde visst Leiv Eriksson tatt med til USA

AIf Prøysen sov urolig under nordlyset i natt

Harald Hårfagre fikk hetta, Og klipte av sæ fletta

Da han skjønte at han sku' ha hatt hatt

Og det e sa lite dette landet, men veien hjem e lang

Da dansketida slutta hadd' vi glemt vår egen sang

Så æ rei rett over havet full of hope and full of true

Så sa æ ka æ hete og så spurt' æ: «What hate you?»

Æ leita etter røtter blant kirkegårdens støtter

Æ levd' av bær og nøtter

Men alt æ fant va Roots

Æ trudd' æ hadde røtter

Blant fiskera og krøtter

Æ trudd' æ hadde føtter

Men alt æ fant va Boots

Æ said goodbye to them at home, before finding out where æ e

Find out where I come from and where I hear tea

Along the endless road, a man and his guitar

While the loneliness tore and tore, and æ drank the anguish bore

Æ search for roots among the cemetery's supports

Lived on berries and nuts

But all I found was Roots

I thought I had roots

Among the fishers and crabs

I thought I had feet

But all I found were Boots

And between the house of prayer and the boat, a race and a folk wisdom game

Among the old dance and the hay, I walked dressed in black, silent and pale

Leads all that is untidy and simple, that which is popular and good

Leiv Eriksson must have brought that to the USA

AIf Prøysen slept restlessly under the northern lights last night

Harald Hårfagre got the hood, And cut off the braid

When he realized he must have had a hat

And this country is so small, but the way home is long

When the Danish era ended, we had forgotten our own song

So I rode straight across the sea full of hope and full of truth

Then I said ka æ hete and then asked: "What hate you?"

Æ search for roots among the cemetery's supports

Lived on berries and nuts

But all I found was Roots

I thought I had roots

Among the fishers and crabs

I thought I had feet

But all I found were Boots