The song was also uttered in Bihar: «Stand up Hungarian, if you have a soul; Redeem your old honor. – Buda still stands, God lives: Rácz does not rule here! Long live the home! »

It was the summer of 1848: ugly hot weather! And the fools even heated up next to him! With their beds. “They warmed their palms at burning villages.”

Well, if the devil is not asleep, God is always awake. This is also true.

That is what we trusted us to do. “And we were just waiting, we were just waiting to see when he would send us the killer angel who had killed one hundred and fifty thousand men of King Senakrib one night: until the last time we realized that but my sweet Hungarian, you have to cut it off yourself if you want to get rid of it.” ; so it wasn’t long before our other songs were replaced by this one:

«My hat is a national color rose,
Kiss my dear baby on my lip!
Don’t be afraid, baby, I’m not going into the world,
I will be a soldier to my nation. ”
That meant something.

Youth just flooded with the national flags.

The recruiting team, a threaded old hussar sergeant, with three red hackers, green uniforms, red-hooded hussars, then came to Bozonka, and then with the gang, which also consisted of a squat primate, a lame bruges, and a bulging clarinetist. it was still full of suhancz.-2-

But they made music from all over Bozonka, our gunman, all of them.

Among them, the most beautiful lad was the son of Mr. Peti, Mr. Márton Csapó, who was such a skilful lad that even the servant judge took him with him whenever he was here on a drive hunt; so he was already used to the rifle.

Mr. Slapper did not even regret his son getting under arms. «Two years is not the world! Long live Hungarian freedom. ” This is also sung by the song. Although he figured out whoever did it, Hungarian freedom would only be needed for two years.

– Let the kid go! Let me see the world. It doesn’t hurt him to be taught a little regular. There will also be a bachelor on his feet, not just in the boot. I wasn’t afraid of him.

“If only your mother was anointed, you would be afraid!” however, Mrs. Csapón lamented, folding her hands in great bitterness. – Oh, my beloved fetus! That’s why I nurtured you, that’s why I raised you to shoot those cruel grids with a chain ball now!

The hussar sergeant comforted the grieving mother.

“We’re not going to the grates, we’re going to the groves.”

With that, he was just desperate.

– Oh my lord my God! Because they split in two who they can get. Once as a small child, when Peti was only as big as Erzsikém now, a bad cock cut his temple so that blood covered his face at once. Then I became lousy when I saw it. Well, even if I think the snot is cutting off the head of my dear son.

– Biz cut the pumpkin! The sergeant said; – I strain that moth on my mustache.

It is true that such a pair of mustaches threatened under the nose of the valiant warrior, waxing hard that I was in danger. -3-he had to confront, and Peti already had a mustache: it was rolled out, too.

– Don’t be mad, sweet mother! Peti said, stroking his mother’s figure; – and I will bring to your grace when I return from the land of the Olahs, a beautiful – pulveric knife.

Then even the sorrowful mother had to laugh at herself. Because he also knew well that the pulp knife of the Olah women – a thread of thread.

“Well, this will be quite a problem for me,” said Mr. Márton Csapó. I drink the juice of this war the best. Because the boy will only have one calf to carry on his back, but to me the six oxen that will stay at home. To the recruiter if the rifle gets hot and then throws it away, but I can’t throw away the plow horn, no matter how much my palm breaks. From now on I will have to mow instead of two and have my eyes front and back and sleep with my eyes open at night like a rabbit because there will be no one to stroke. But if the home so desires, let the young men go and fight: we old men work under it.

“Your grace speaks easily,” said Mrs. Klara, “because your gracious daughter, Erzsi’s daughter, remains here for your grace.” Ever since it came into the world, he hasn’t even picked up his son, he’s just carrying his little daughter on his lap: that’s his preciousness.

“That’s it,” says Farmer Martin. “Biz, I don’t even wear this big teenager around my neck like a bear does a monkey.” This is ni on your lap! It caresses me when I’m angry. Right, boots?

He also picked up the little shy Erzsike on her arm, who was so embarrassed that she covered her eyes with both arms, peeking out of there, and only reluctantly accepting the salt flake that the big mustache hussar had pulled down for her. from the rod of a pretzel.-4-

“Oh, wait at least, Sergeant, while I’m baking a little cake for my son.”

– Let’s not wait, Aunt! After all, if all the recruits wanted to wait while his mother kneaded, sows and pulled out his catacorns, we would arrive at the party six weeks after the day of judgment.

– What kind of fun?

“Biz where they play the violin with a sword and play the flute with a rifle.” Let’s not pretend any more. Gypsy, I give you a pig: He doesn’t break out of your house!

The primate grabbed the dry wood under his chin and began to gnaw at him, the crook also stabbed him in his rolled-up baking tin, and the crumbly clarinet player had two puffy jaws as he began to squeak his stove. The verbung moved on, up to the market, the clutches of the newcomers, tying their arms on each other’s shoulders, singing the mode song; Peti turned back and forth, gesturing to his parents at the gate.

“Oh, how much my poor son Peti will fast in the camp,” Ms. Klara lamented, drying her thick tears with her apron.

At this word, little Erzsike, undressing her shyness once, rushed to the recruiting team, dancing and singing, and as she got to her sweet brother, the gift brine was hung up on her stalk. But just so no one can see it.

Yet the little clarinet saw him and wanted to keep the salty pretzel for himself.

Erzsike, however, had a sudden hand; he struck the clarinetist on his five fingernails that if he had been a pitcher, he would have gotten him.

– No you don’t! I’ll give it to you! Not for your bet!

His father and mother would eat it for that word.

Even in front of Aunt Terka’s house, one had to stop -5-slipper; he also loved Petit very much. There he waited in the small door, blessed him all the way, wept all the way when he divorced him, and forced a delipir shawl on top of which three Virgin Mary twenties were tied.

“You see, I meant this to you as a ticket at the carnival!”

Who else knows who Peti’s bride will be – ashes until Wednesday?

Even a good aunt Terka wanted to force a new-fingered calf-mouthed gyzching, which she had herself with two artistic fingers with great art; but the hussar sergeant refused to accept it: «where in the stallion would you put this under the soldier-uniform? then he gives him a shirt and pants from the “old man.” (This was the title of Excellency of the then Hungarian Minister of Defense.)