Georges Brassens

Georges Brassens - Le modeste English translation lyrics

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The modest

Countries, now that you have plenty of
People are born in Salamanca,
Paris, Bordeaux, Lille, Brest
Him birth took him
Around Saintes Maries1
He's a modest.
Like in the olden days did a king
He would stupid enough, I think
To give the throne and the rest
Against one camargue horse
Lame, old, one-eyed, exhausted,
He's a modest.
Followed by his stone pine2
If he flees without touhing ground
the slightest effort like the plague,
It's because at the workshop his Hercules arms
Would make the others ridicule,
He's a modest.
At the boules game3 when he looses,
Do not worry, daddy
If by chance he's contesting you4,
If he pouts, if he mistreats you
Deep down, he's happy for you,
He's a modest.
If, a pain in the arse puts him
In a rage, you'll never see him
Raise on the main a swift hand
It's because he doesn't think it's necessary
To humiliate an oppotent,
He's a modest.
And when he falls madly in love,
There's no danger for him to declare
Effusions, lady, he hates
According to him wearing his heart on his sleeve5
His heart or his ass it's the same,
He's a modest.
When an imbecile is buried
Of his friends if he mocks, if
His eyes are dry and he shows
No sorrow, don't you trust what you see
He is down in the dumps6,
He's a modest.
And if he calls you a foreigner,
May you be from Napoli, Angers
Or elsewhere, don't put on your jacket
Him when he adopts you, of course !
He doesn't want it to be said,
He's a modest.
If you don't act like a dunce
If you can read between the lines
Between the words, between the acts,
Then, You'll see right through him,
And that this playboy7,
He's a modest.

Le modeste

LE MODESTE

Les pays, c'est pas ça qui manque,

On vient au monde à Salamanque

A Paris, Bordeaux, Lille, Breste.

Lui, la nativité le prit

Du côté des Saintes-Maries,

C'est un modeste.

Comme jadis a fait un roi,

Il serait bien fichu, je crois,

De donner le trône et le reste

Contre un seul cheval camarguais

Bancal, vieux, borgne, fatigué,

C'est un modeste.

Suivi de son pin parasol,

S'il fuit sans même toucher le sol

Le moindre effort comme la peste,

C'est qu'au chantier ses bras d'Hercule

Rendraient les autres ridicules,

C'est un modeste.

A la pétanque, quand il perd

Te fais pas de souci, pépère,

Si d'aventure il te conteste.

S'il te boude, s'il te rudoie,

Au fond, il est content pour toi,

C'est un modeste.

Si, quand un emmerdeur le met

En rogne, on ne le voit jamais

Lever sur l'homme une main leste.

C'est qu'il juge pas nécessaire

D'humilier un adversaire,

C'est un modeste.

Et, quand il tombe amoureux fou

Y a pas de danger qu'il l'avoue:

Les effusions, dame, il déteste.

Selon lui, mettre en plein soleil

Son coeur ou son cul c'est pareil,

C'est un modeste.

Quand on enterre un imbécile

De ses amis, s'il raille, s'il

A l'oeil sec et ne manifeste

Aucun chagrin, t'y fie pas trop:

Sur la patate, il en a gros,

C'est un modeste.

Et s'il te traite d'étranger

Que tu sois de Naples, d'Angers

Ou d'ailleurs, remets pas la veste.

Lui, quand il t'adopte, pardi!

Il veut pas que ce soit le dit,

C'est un modeste.

Si tu n'as pas tout du grimaud,

Si tu sais lire entre les mots,

Entre les faits, entre les gestes.

Lors, tu verras clair dans son jeu,

Et que ce bel avantageux,

C'est un modeste.
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Copyrights:

Author: Georges Brassens

Composer: Georges Brassens

Publisher: Mercury France

Details:

Released in: 2012

Language: French

Translations: English

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