it's about time i recommended some vreeswijk. after all he's one of my very favourite artsts, and pretty obscure outside scandinavia. it's hard to decide wich song to post, as i guess you'd have to be scandinavian to enjoy the masterful, deceptivly simple lyrics. the best way to describe the man is as kind of a swedish crossbred of serge gainsbourg, tom waits and bob dylan.
this is one of his best-known songs, a qusasi-joyous melancholy number about death and hopelessness.
i once heard someone say something that summed up the power of this guy pretty well: "I don�t understand swedish, however I do understand Cornelis Vreeswijk"


the best place to start if you're interested n an initial taste, is probably the new 2-cd set. if you're like me, youll soon advance to the original lp's and the 5-cd set "master cees memoarer".

lyrics:
Somliga g�r med trasiga skor, s�g vad beror det p�?
Gud fader som i himmelen bor kanske vill ha det s�.
Gud fader som i himmelen bor blundar och sover s�tt. Vem bryr sig om ett par trasiga skor n�r man �r gammal och tr�tt?
Vem bryr sig om hur dagarna g�r? Dom vandrar som dom vill.
Medborgare, om ett hundra �r finns du ej l�ngre till.
D� har n�n annan tagit din stol, det vet du inte av.
Du k�nner varken regn eller sol ner i din m�rka grav.
Vem bryr sig om hur n�tterna far? Jag bryr mig inte ett sp�r. Bara jag f�r ha mitt ansikte kvar dolt i min �lsklings h�r.
Jag �r en tvivelaktig figur, duger ej mycket till. Bakom ett h�rn st�r d�den p� lur, han tar mig n�r han vill.
Somliga g�r med trasiga skor tills dom har slutat g�. Dj�vulen som i helvetet bor f�r sig ett gott skratt d�
a very, very bad and rushed translation of the lyrics,most of the humor and finer points are lost but at least you'll know what's it about:

some walk around in bad shoes, say, why is is it so?
maybe the good lord up in the sky wants it that way.
the good lord up in the sky sleeps calmly now.
who cares about a pair of bad shoes when they are old and tired?
who cares how the days pass? they go the way the want.
fellow citizen, in a hundred years you will no longer exist.
someone else will have taken your chair, but you won't know about that.
you'll feel neither rain nor sun, down in your dark grave.
who cares how the nights pass? i don't care at all.
as long as i get to keep my my face tucked in my love's hair.
i'm a questionable character, not good for much.
behind a corner death lurks, he'll take me whenever he wants.
some walk around in bad shoes/ until hey walk no more
the devil, who lives down in the hell/ will have a good laugh then.