Brabant

Brabant.

My hat on my head, my collar is up
The days are short here, the night starts early,
The people are reserved, and there is only one pub,
As I walk to my hotel, after a dark day,
I feel my house key deep in my pocket,

And I walk here alone in a too quiet city,
I never really had homesickness,
But people are sleeping, the world is closing,
And then I think of Brabant, because there is still light,

I miss the warmth here, of a village pub,
The conversation of people, with a soft G,
I even miss the complaining, about everything for nothing,
If only they were as proud as a Frisian in Brabant,
In the sunny south, I live with you,
That's why I love Brabanters so much,

I walk here alone in a too quiet city,
I never really had homesickness,
But people are sleeping, the world is closing,
And then I think of Brabant, that Brabant is still alive,

The Peel and the Kempen and the Meierij,
But the most beautiful thing about Brabant is you, that's you,
And I walk here alone, in a too quiet city,
I never really had homesickness,
But people are sleeping, the world is closing,
And then I think of Brabant, because there is still light,

And then I think of Brabant, because there is still light,

And then I think of Brabant, because there is still light,