Werich & Voskovec: Hey Royal Highness (From Czech)

A song from between the two World Wars, from Werich and Voskovec's Balada z hadru (Rag Ballad) a theatrical work drawing on the life, times and work of Fran�ois Villon, but inspired as much as anything by the Great Depression. My translation is free, as is my wont when working with song lyrics. I have deemphasized the medievalism. I have included modernity-specific terms. I have, in fact, turned the song into something a bit different than what it was in Czech.

Leslie Jameson, the donor who requested this, asked that I translate one poem from a language I don't know well. Granted, Czech is quite easy for me to understand in its written form. So here it is.

Hey, Royal Highness
By Jan Werich and Jir� Voskovec
Requested by Leslie Jameson
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
(YouTube link to a cover version of this song)

So here's a topic for you, researchers and scholars
Of the academy: does it say in your books
Why it is just the poor they put in prison-collars,
When rich homes have a wealth of free white collar crooks?

If His Highness knew poor folks' pain, he'd deign
Just once to honestly explain.

Hey, Royal Highness, quit your lounging,
Don rags, come down into our slum,
Learn how we live by drudging, scrounging,
The filth you see will set you howling,
And you won't sleep till Kingdom Come.

And all you sirs of moneyed breeding
Come see us in our neighborhoods.
See what we pay for life you're leading
How misery turns men to thieving
And wolves burst hungry from the woods

You think we're nothing since we're poorer.
You don't yet fear the working class.
But one day you'll be ripped with horror
When this shout shakes your windows' glass:

Hey, fat cats, pigs and portly weasels,
You've had enough. Now pay the bill. 
Yes sirs, you brought about the evil
Misery that makes wolves of people,
And that makes you our juicy kill.

The Original:

Hej Pane Kr�li
Jan Werich

Bereme na potaz ucen� bakal�re.
Et item doktory, et item rektory.
Proc jenom chud�k trhan patr� do �al�re?
V�dyt mezi boh�ci jsou tak� potvory!

Kdyby n�s chud�ky l�pe znal p�n kr�l,
snad by n�m odpoved dal.

Hej, pane kr�li, nebud l�n�,
vem hadry a jdi mezi lid,
pozn�, co je �ivorit z driny,
uvid� za den tolik �p�ny,
do smrti nebude� m�t klid.

A vubec velkomo�n� p�ni,
prijdte se na n�s pod�vat,
vy p�ni, kter� jste t�m vinni,
�e b�da z lid� lotri cin�,
�e vlky z lesu �ene hlad.

Myslete si, �e jsme jen luza,
�e se n�s nemus�te b�t.
Jednou v�ak popadne V�s hruza,
a� pod okny v�m budeme rv�t.

Hej, kreckov� a bartip�ni,
je cas, budeme �ctovat,
p�nov�, sami jste t�m vinni,
�e b�da z lid� vlky cin�,
�e n�s proti v�m �ene hlad.