Wojciech Młynarski - Ballada o dzikim zachodzie

Got hundreds of examples confirm
Westerns are still a thing.
So listen, please, to this ballad
About the so called wildest West.

There was a town like any other,
With prairie around and rocks in the front,
Like anywhere else the sun shone there,
Elders died, children were born.

And the ballad differs only in one thing,
That in this town, somewhere in the prairie outskirts,
For every townsfolk fell one sheriff,
One sheriff for one townsfolk.

The consequences of the fact were substantial,
As no one in town ever would cock their guns,
And everybody had long forgotten,
What a real bandit looked like.

Though finance was down in a way,
Economy and industry were a dead loss,
Yet everyone, big or small,
Felt boundlessly secure.

As the ballad differs only in one thing,
That in this town, somewhere in the prairie outskirts,
For every townsfolk fell one sheriff,
One sheriff for one townsfolk.

If the story is boring you somehow,
Satisfy yourself with the fact that at last,
One night people were woken by a scream,
The bank was broken! Bandits came to town!

Oh, good people, you're crying in vain,
Nobody will turn up or grab any gun,
Since everyone have lost awareness
Of the difference between common people and a bandit.

And the ballad differs only in one thing,
That in this town, somewhere in the prairie outskirts,
For every townsfolk fell one sheriff,
One sheriff for one townsfolk.

Got hundreds of examples confirm
Westerns are still a thing.
What you've heard now was a ballad
About the so called wildest West.

There was a town like any other,
People would cross each other's paths,
But the sun didn't shine for everyone there,
As the bandits rolled around without care.

Let's draw the moral hidden in the ballad,
While we're not yet troubled by no riff raff,
Sometimes the hardest thing is to recognize a bandit,
When we're surrounded by sheriffs from every side.