Jon, You're absolutely right; Cappello is hat, cappelli is hair.

You may not be able to translate this one with an Italian-English dictionary because it's probably in dialect. It doesn't look Neapolitan to me; if it was sung by Alpinisti, it would be in a more Northern Italian dialect.

There's one verse I think I've got. But you have to interpret, not just translate, because the whole thing is so tongue-in-cheek.

E la boraccia che noi portiamo / L'e la cantina di noi solda'

Boraccia means drunken woman. Cantina is bar, of course. So I think they're saying that the old drunk who travels with them is their bar, because she always has liquor.

I'm sure that solda' is dialect of some form for soldati or soldiers. Also, I know bits of the melody, but not all. How I wish I had paid more attention when I was younger!

Oh. The first couple of lines of Quell Mazzolin di Fiori are:

Quell mazzolin di fiori / Che vien' della montagna (2)

E guarda ben' che no'l se bagna / cca la voglio regolar'

The part before the slash is the call, after the slash is the response, which was sung by another group of marching men as they traveled.

Translation: That bouquet of flowers/ that come from the mountain/ Take care that they (aren't dropped, don't get wet), because I want to give them away.

I' voglio regolare/ a' mia bella Rosina ...

I want to give them to my pretty Rosina ...

That's all I remember. But I have a sneaking suspicion that the words are in a book somewhere in this house, maybe packed in a box....

A charming incident from WWI that my dad told about. The village was alarmed because there were deserters in the neighborhood. They pictured them as desperate bandidos, and everyone was cowering indoors. But curiosity is strong in Italian villages and word gets around quickly. When the deserters got there, they turned out to be about 18 years old, ragged, thin, tired, dirty and half-starved, and terrified that they would be caught and shot. The whole village rallied behind them, gave them food and warm clothes and fresh bread hot from the ovens. Dad said they kept saying, "This is the best bread we've ever tasted." When the MP's arrived later, looking for deserters, no one in the village had ever heard of such a thing. No deserters around here, no sir.