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Listen up! Gather up the gear quickly, 'cause we're ruined!
How come, Tsikrokonis?
Are you playing dumb, then,
or would you rather go sleep on the ashphalt of Oropos jail?
Yeah, scumbags, gather up the tzouras [musical instruments] and stash them away.
What's the matter, Tsikrikonis?
You, sir, are a major ***.
And since you don't get my meaning viva voce,
have a listen to these dulcet tones;
and you have the right of refutation, if you don't dig it.
Good work!
Brother, keep it quiet.
The blackguards are swarming for a raid
I've just seen them around the corner
Hide that *** away
They'll *** us dervishes
They'll take our hash
They'll find our pipes
And they'll get wind of our stash
Nobody move! Freeze, or I'll do you in!
Good show, Mr Shmoliceman.
Is that how they brought you up in the academy in Corfu, is it?
Cut the smart talk Tsikrikonis, you and that Batis guy,
and tell me immediately where you've hidden the hash and the pipes. Do you hear me?
What are you talking about, brother?
Now Mr Shmoliceman, you are egregiently mistaken. By the Holy Resurrection, you are mistaken.
What do you mean, hash?
I only know one hash
And I can't bring it to you
My soul breaks because of it
But I call it the blues
What's that smoke? I can't tell
I cannot keep my heart in check
I've gone mighty dizzy,
And my head feels heavy.
Right, you can get down to the station now,
and you can explain yourselves to the sergeant.
Oh, good show! We're not going anywhere Mr Shmoliceman.
Get inside! "Not going anywhere", he says!
I'm telling you, we're not going anywhere!
—We are honourable businessmen— —Cool it you fool
Oh keep quiet brother Markos! We are honourable businessmen,
and we have our café, our commerce and the like, I mean;
so I'm asking you nicely, Mr Shmoliceman, you'd better get lost.
Get inside, damn it, or I'll use my baton.
Baton? What baton?
That's right, I'll use my baton.
Dudes! It's a raid! Get him, Batis! Get him, Batis!
... Well, there goes the café...