Smrt popa Mila Jovovića

The death… death of… parson Milo…
Parson Milo Jovovic

In the years when Montenegro men decided
That all the Turks must be abolished
In the Montenegro camp near the Tower of Lekovic
Someone slandered the name of parson Milo Jovovic
So the lord said to Milo in front of all the dukes
Parson Milo, are you with us or against us
As soon as Milo heard this, he grabbed his sabre’s hilt
And glared intently at the lord’s suite
All the other nobles froze in fright
Of him killing the Montenegro ruler on sight
Instead, with his soul on fire, he yelled,
My lord, god be with you, what have you said!
He left the lord and dukes furious with anger
And headed for his tent barely controlling his temper
In his rage he grabbed to play gusle, the chords almost tore
His shout went across the cliffs, on his mother’s life he swore
On going unescorted down to town of Nikshic
And calling on a duel the mighty captain Mushovic
He threw away the gusle, mounted his stallion
And galloped across river Zeta, heading for the town doors
The horse rode down the slopes as if gifted with wings
The Turkish guards could easily see him approaching
Milo came nearer and nearer to Turkish ramparts
With his stallion exhausted, fighting for it’s breath
Accordingly to his own renowned name as a fighter
Parson Milo charged at the toughest town tower
If he is to die, then may he die like a man
By a well known and mighty hero’s hand
The Turkish stopped him at the gate
Fetch me Mushovic, he yelled out straight
As soon as the Turks recognized his face
To the captain’s quarters they started to race
When Mushovic came out and saw Milo’s presence
He rejoiced at this unexpected appearance
What wind brought you here, in a jolly voce he said
Has the Montenegro Lord also put up a price for your head?
You’re welcomed to stay, and we’ll even give you a pardon
Your life is now in safe hands, trust me, parson
Milo burst in anger, Enough, stop acting like a fool
For I have come, captain, to challenge you to a duel!
So get ready and come out to choose your weapon
These words struck the captain like a cannon
He dared not showing to the famous rebel even his nose
For he knew that Milo’s sabre had made a lot of widows
Won’t accept the duel, scared out of his mind
He threw his family’s fame and good name aside
And like a coward secretly signaled to a guard
A gun went of, Milo got shot and fell to the ground
The stallion jolted and galloped across the Zeta river
Heading for Milo, the Turks run down the tower
Pushing and shoving, fighting for the privilege
Of being the first to try on Milo their sabre’s edge
Ferizovic Hasan came up to him first
Sabre hissed, head fell, the blood burst
High up on the town gates, on the top of tower Mushovic
The Turks spiked the head of parson Milo Jovovic
Milo faced, from the top of the town gate
The Turks feasting and celebrating his grim fate
A black raven bird had a pleasant surprise
When it saw the parson’s head bleeding on the spike
So it started to fly down, approaching the parson
To disfigure his face, according to the old custom
Secretly, from the harem, the Turkish women stared
Trying to get a look at the famous Serbian parson’s head

The death… death of… parson Milo…
Parson Milo Jovovic…

Koprivica Marko