Since Hilary has been posting up tunes, I thought I would add a little Central European flair by introducing you all to Disco Polo.

When the rest of Europe becomes thoroughly unpleasant for Catholics, little bands of us westerners may find ourselves knocking on the iron gates of Hungary and Poland. Naturally, they will not be happy to see us, for as immigrants we will threaten the social cohesion of their nations, and our explanation that the notion of a nation-state is “Sooooo 1919” won’t help us very much.

No, what will help us is an understanding and appreciation of the cultures to which we flee, paired with the ability to shed our more annoying and foreign impositions, like getting dead drunk during football matches and passing out in Kraków’s ancient market square. As much as I appreciate Gilbert Chesterton’s thoughts on manly British quaffing, I think British Catholics should be willing to give up binge drinking when we flee eastwards.

Although Ann, in her tax exile, has made Cleaning All The Things sound very attractive, I have decided that I would rather be a cook and hope to find employment in some pious Polish household making pierogis from dawn to dusk. Sadly, I have not yet figured out how to make the dough as light and tender as the angels’ pillowcases they are supposed to be, but hopefully Britain’s Catholic Emancipation Act will not be repealed until I have discovered the secret.

Disco Polo is nothing more or less than Polish dance music with catchy lyrics that Poles easily learn and sing loudly on any dance floor they may come across, whether at a wedding in Szczecin or at a street fair in Gdańsk. Possibly our hero Archbishop Stanisław Gądecki may sometimes absentmindedly hum a little Disco Polo when he is shaving or shining his shoes or doing some other homely task that does not require the full force of his keen, doctrine-defending intellect.

The most popular Disco Polo tune I know is the one I present below. It is addressed to some unknown, regretted female, which doesn’t really fit with the leading personalities of the Synod. But perhaps we could dedicate it to the Church in Germany, the majority of whose urban flock is probably Polish now anyway.

“You’re Crazy” by Boys

“Love leaves,” I hear again from your mouth./The truth has always had some sense./Those days were like a fairy-tale, beautiful as a thousand roses/You were always laughing; well, good-bye.

You’re crazy, I’m telling you./You’ve always been like that./Finally stop to dream?/You’re not an angel, I’m telling you./You’re crazy.

At the farewell, you give me your smile/When you’re around, everything goes wild./I loved you and your craziness so much/You were always laughing; well, good-bye.

You’re crazy, I’m telling you./You’re always been like that./Finally stop to dream?/ You’re not an angel, I’m telling you./Jesteś szalona.

~