GERMAN POP LYRICS
The conversation in this song takes place in the Volkspark Friedrichshain, the oldest public park in Berlin. During the Second World War the Nazis made use of the park, constructing flak towers (concrete anti-aircraft towers) there. As a result much of the park was destroyed by Allied bombing. At the end of the war the park was restored, with the huge amount of rubble being used to create two artificial mountains. The larger one (78 metres tall) was given the nickname Mont Klamott, which translates into something like “Rubbish mountain”. The official name is Großer Bunkerberg, while the smaller one (48 metres tall) is known as Kleiner Bunkerberg.
Due to the loss of men in the war the work was mainly carried out by women. Known as Trümmerfrau (literally rubble women), they were not assisted by heavy machinery. Typically they worked with shovels and barrows in what must have been both hazardous and exhausting work. In the GDR (and elsewhere) the Trümmerfrau became a symbol of the woman as worker, reflecting a breaking down of gender stereotypes.
Over time the woodland at Mont Klamott has asserted itself and the hills now appear to be a natural part of the landscape.
MONT KLAMOTT Mitten in der City zwischen Staub und Straßenlärm Wächst 'ne grüne Beule aus dem Stadtgedärm Dort hängen wir zum Weekend die Lungen in den Wind Bis ihre schlappen Flügel so richtig durchgelüftet sind Neulich sitz ich mit 'ner alten Dame auf der Bank Wir reden über dies und das da sag ich: "Gott sei Dank Da ist ihnen mal was eingefall'n den Vätern dieser Stadt Dass unsereins 'n bissel frische Luft zum Atmen hat" REFRAIN: Mont Klamott - auf'm Dach von Berlin Mont Klamott - Sind die Wiesen so grün Mont Klamott - auf'm Dach von Berlin Mont Klamott - Sind die Wiesen so grün Die alte Dame lächelt matt: "Lass sie ruh'n, die Väter dieser Stadt Die sind so tot seit Deutschlands Himmelfahrt Die Mütter dieser Stadt hab'n den Berg zusamm'gekarrt" REFRAIN
MONT KLAMOTT In the middle of the city between dust and street noise A green bulge is growing from the bowels of the city There, for the weekend, we hang our lungs out in the wind Until their worn out wings are completely refreshed with air The other day I’m sitting with an old lady on the bench We talk about this and that then I say: “Thank God They finally realised, the fathers of this city, that the likes of us need a bit of fresh air to breathe” CHORUS: Mont Klamott - On the roof of Berlin Mont Klamott - The fields are so green Mont Klamott - On the roof of Berlin Mont Klamott - The fields are so green The old lady smiles wearily: “Let them rest, the fathers of this city They've been so dead since Germany's ascension to heaven The mothers of this town put the mountain together cart by cart” CHORUS