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Ces gens-là!

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First, first, there's the eldest. He, who's as big as a melon He, who has a big nose He, who has forgotten his name, Sir since he drinks so much, since he drank so much He who can't two anything with his ten fingers But he, who can't take it anymore He, who's completely drunk And who thinks he's the king Who gets drunk every night On bad wine But who we find, in the morning, Sleeping in the church As stiff as a hard-on As white as an Easter candle And who's babbling And whose eye is rambling I must say, Sir, that those people they don't think, Sir They don't think. They pray. And then, there's the other one With carrots in his hair Who has never seen a comb. Who's as mean as a tinea he'd even give the shirt To poor happy people Who married this Denise A girl from the town I mean, from another town And, that's not all He does his little business With his little hat With his little coat With his little car Who'd like to "look like", But who doesn't look like no one at all You can't pretend to be rich When you're penniless I must say, Sir That those people They don't live, Sir. They don't live. They cheat. And then, there are the other ones The mother who doesn't say anything Or says complete nonsense From dusk until dawn under her nice apostle face And in her wooden frame There's the moustache of the father Who died by slipping on the floor And who's watching his herd Eating cold soup And they make big 'flchss' And they make big 'flchss' And then there's the very old one Who won't stop trembling And they are waiting for her to die Cause she's got the money And no one ever listens What her poor hands are saying I must say, Sir That those people, they don't talk, Sir. They don't talk! They count. And then... And then... And then there's this Frida Who's as beautiful as a sun And who loves me as much As I love Frida We even tell each other quite often That we'll own a house With plenty of windows With almost no walls And that we'll live inside And that it'll feel good to be there And that even though it's not sure, It's still a 'maybe' Because the others don't want to... Because the others don't want to! The others say, just like that That she's too beautiful for me That I'm barely good enough To slit a cat's throat I never killed any cat Or at least, not recently Or I must have forgotten Or they didn't smell good Well, they don't want... Well, they don't want... Sometimes, when we meet as if it was by chance with her wet eyes She says that she'll leave She says that she'll follow me And so for an instant for an instant only, Sir So for an instant, so... I believe her. For an instant only, Sir Because... From those people, Sir... No one goes away, Sir. No one goes away. No one goes away... But it's getting late, Sir. I must go back home.

Video Details

Duration: 5 minutes and 13 seconds
Country: France
Language: French (France)
Views: 115
Posted by: meeme on Jun 8, 2013

Chanson de Jacques Brel

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