Georges Brassens
Georges Brassens - Hécatombe English translation lyrics
Your rating:
Slaughter (Carnage)
At the Brive-La-Gaillarde market, Concerning some onion bunchs, some dozens of strapping wenchs were tearing each other's hair one day, on foot, on horseback, by car, The policemen ill inspired came to try the adventure of interrupting the brawl. Therefore, all over the world shamelessly, it's a well-established custom As soon as it's time to thrash the cops, Everyone become reconciled These shrews losing their sense of proportion, Pounced on these puppets, And gave I can assure you, A pretty cute show. Seeing these brave cops, being within an ace of death, Me, I was delighted because I adore them, In the likeness of corpses In the attic room where I reside, I was exciting the fierce arms of the "copkillers" shrews By screaming "Hip, Hip, Hip, Hourra" Frantic, one of them tie up the old sergeant and have him scream "down with the cops, death to the laws, hurrah for the anarchy!" Another one stuff roughly the skull of one of these oafs between her gigantic buttocks that she tightens as a vice. The fattier of these females, opening her dilated blouse, beat up using breasts, those who were to the fore They fall, fall, fall, fall And according to the competent opinions, apparently this slaughter Has been the all-time most beautiful one. finally judging that their casualties had had their fill of bashes these shrews as an ultimate insult, by returning to their business, These shrews I can hardly dare, to tell 'cause it's so petty would have also cut their bollocks, fortunately theiy didn't have any would have also cut their bollocks, fortunately theiy didn't have any
Hécatombe
HÉCATOMBE Au marché de Brive-la-Gaillarde A propos de bottes d'oignons, Quelques douzaines de gaillardes Se crêpaient un jour le chignon. A pied, a cheval, en voiture, Les gendarmes mal inspirés Vinrent pour tenter l'aventure D'interrompre l'échauffourée. Or, sous tous les cieux sans vergogne, C'est un usage bien établi, Dès qu'il s'agit de rosser les cognes Tout le monde se réconcilie. Ces furies perdant toute mesure Se ruèrent sur les guignols, Et donnèrent je vous l'assure Un spectacle assez croquignol. En voyant ces braves pendores Être à deux doigts de succomber, Moi, je bichais car je les adore Sous la forme de macchabées De la mansarde où je réside J'excitais les farouches bras Des mégères gendarmicides En criant: "Hip, hip, hip, hourra!" Frénétique l'une d'elles attache Le vieux maréchal des logis Et lui fait crier: "Mort aux vaches, Mort aux lois, vive l'anarchie!" Une autre fourre avec rudesse Le crâne d'un de ses lourdauds Entre ses gigantesques fesses Quelles serre comme un étau. La plus grasse de ses femelles Ouvrant son corsage dilaté Matraque à grand coup de mamelles Ceux qui passe à sa portée. Ils tombent, tombent, tombent, tombent, Et selon les avis compétents Il paraît que cette hécatombe Fut la plus belle de tous les temps. Jugeant enfin que leurs victimes Avaient eu leur content de gnons, Ces furies comme outrage ultime En retournant à leurs oignons, Ces furies à peine si j'ose Le dire tellement c'est bas, Leur auraient même coupé les choses Par bonheur ils n'en avaient pas. Leur auraient même coupé les choses Par bonheur ils n'en avaient pas.
Get this song at:
Copyrights:
Author: Georges Brassens
Composer: Georges Brassens
Publisher: Universal Licensing Music (ULM)
Details:
Released in: 2014
Language: French
Translations: English
Appearing on: Les 100 Plus Belles Chansons (2006) , Les amoureux des bancs public (2006)
More info:
The display of this lyric is permitted by the federation of music authors and publishers (Femu)