San Remo Festival - 1968
San Remo Italy

In Italy this festival is known as Festival della conzone Italiana or Italian Song Festival. The festival began in 1951 and still runs strong today. From 1953-1971 each song was sung by two different artists, each having their own orchestral arrangement. Usually this meant the song being done once by an Italian and then again by another non-Italian artist. In the case of the Cowsills, Patrick Samson was the Italian performing "Le Opere Di Bartolomeo." The Rokes also did this song.

Other known Americans performing in 1968 were Dionne Warwick, Paul Anka, Wilson Pickett, Louis Armstrong, Bobbie Gentry and Shirley Bassey.


Here are some lyics in Italian and the translation: Note: Due to the webpage coding, the italian alphabet are not totally correct. Sorry !!

 
Vi racconterò la storia del signor Bartolomeo:

Fa un monotono lavoro che non lo interessa più.

Sogna un attimo di gloria,

Non lo sogni un pò, anche tu?



Millecentoundici buchi tutti in fila in questo pezzo di ferro così, (Ufa!)

Millecentododici buchi tutti in fila in questo pezzo di ferro così.

Pensare che il mio sogno è la poesia.

Millecentotredici buchi tutti in fila in questo pezzo di ferro così.



Ma il giorno mio verrà, e tutto il mondo parlerà, e leggerà:

"Le Opere Di Bartolomeo".

Chi mi fermerà? Chi mi impedirà?

Di volare dove vorrò?

Chi mi fermerà? Quando io vivrò nelle parole che scriverò?



Millecentoundici buchi tutti in fila in questo pezzo di ferro così, (Ufa!)

Millecentododici buchi tutti in fila in questo pezzo di ferro così.

Pensare che il mio sogno è la poesia.

Millecentotredici buchi tutti in fila in questo pezzo di ferro così.

I will tell you the story of Signor Bartolomeo:
He does a monotonous job that no longer interests him.
Dream a moment of glory,
Don't you dream it a bit, you too?

One thousand eleven holes all lined up in this piece of iron like this, (Ufa!)
One thousand twelve hundred holes all lined up in this piece of iron like this.
To think that my dream is poetry.
One thousand thirteen holes all lined up in this piece of iron like this.

But my day will come, and the whole world will speak, and read:
"Le Opere Di Bartolomeo".
Who will stop me? Who will prevent me?
Where do I want to fly?
Who will stop me? When will I live in the words I will write?

One thousand eleven holes all lined up in this piece of iron like this, (Ufa!)
One thousand twelve hundred holes all lined up in this piece of iron like this.
To think that my dream is poetry.
One thousand thirteen holes all lined up in this piece of iron like this.