Lyrics and translation Jean Claude Pascal - Douze belles dans le peau

Douze belles dans le peau

Un, deux, trois, quart, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix, onze, douze,
Quand t'auras douze belles dans la
Peau, deux duchesses et dix dactylos
Qu'est ce que t'auras de plus sinon, sinon qu'un peu de plombs
Un peu de plombs dans l'aile, pas plus dans la cervelle
Quand t'auras claqué ton grizzby
Dans toutes les boites à coup de fusil
Tu ne seras jamais qu'un pigeon avec un peu de plombs
Un peu de plombs dans l'aile, pas plus dans la cervelle
Quand dans le feu de la passion, aux echelles des bas nylons,
Tu grimperas tu grimperas après qu'est ce que t'auras?
T'auras du plombs dans l'aile, pas plus dans la cervelle
Quand t'auras aimer à tout vent,
Et que tes poules n'auront plus de dents
Pour te bouffer l'coeur dans la main, he ben mon gros malin
T'auras du plombs dans l'aile, pas plus dans la cervelle
Et quand t'auras passé ta vie, derrière les barreaux de ton lit,
Tu diras que tu t'en ais payé et oui et puis après
T'auras du plombs dans l'aile, pas plus dans la cervelle
Mais p't être bien qu'tu ne feras pas de vieux os,
Avec tes douze belles dans la peau,
Tu tomberas un jour sur un gars, un gars qui t'enverra
Du plomb dans la cervelle et il t' poussera des ailes
One, two, three, fourth, five, six,
Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve,
When t'auras twelve beautiful in
The skin, two duchesses and ten typists
What is more t'auras otherwise, if a little shot
A little shot in the wing, nor in the brain
When your t'auras slammed grizzby
In all boxes shot
Thou shalt not ever will be a pigeon with a little shot
A little shot in the wing, nor in the brain
When in the heat of passion, the scale of nylons,
You grimperas you grimperas after t'auras What?
T'auras shot in the wing, nor in the brain
When t'auras love at any wind,
And that your chickens will have more teeth
For you eat the heart in hand, he ben my big smart
T'auras shot in the wing, nor in the brain
And when t'auras spent your life behind bars on your bed,
You say that you worry ais paid and yes and then
T'auras shot in the wing, nor in the brain
But p't be well qu'tu does not do old bones,
With your twelve beautiful in the skin,
You tomberas a day on a guy, a guy who you will
From lead in the brain and it does' grow wings

Twelve Beauties in Your Skin

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve,
When you have twelve beauties in your
Skin, two duchesses and ten typists
What more will you have, if not, if not a little bit of lead
A little bit of lead in your wing, not more in your brain
When you've slammed your grizzby
In every club with a shotgun
You'll never be more than a pigeon with a little bit of lead
A little bit of lead in your wing, not more in your brain
When in the fire of passion, on the ladders of nylon stockings,
You climb, you climb, after what will you have?
You'll have lead in your wing, not more in your brain
When you have loved in every wind,
And your chicks no longer have teeth
To eat your heart in their hands, well then, my big clever one
You'll have lead in your wing, not more in your brain
And when you've spent your life, behind the bars of your bed,
You'll say that you've had your fill, yes, and then what
You'll have lead in your wing, not more in your brain
But perhaps you won't make old bones,
With your twelve beauties in your skin,
You'll fall one day on a guy, a guy who will send you
Lead in your brain and he'll give you wings
One, two, three, fourth, five, six,
Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve,
When you have twelve beauties in
The skin, two duchesses and ten typists
What more will you have, if not, if not a little shot
A little shot in the wing, not more in the brain
When you've slammed your grizzby
In all boxes shot
You'll never be more than a pigeon with a little shot
A little shot in the wing, not more in the brain
When in the heat of passion, on the scale of nylons,
You climb, you climb, after what will you have?
You'll have shot in the wing, not more in the brain
When you have loved in every wind,
And your chicks will have no more teeth
To eat your heart in their hands, well then, my big clever one
You'll have shot in the wing, not more in the brain
And when you've spent your life behind bars of your bed,
You say that you've had your fill, yes, and then
You'll have shot in the wing, not more in the brain
But perhaps you won't make old bones,
With your twelve beauties in the skin,
You'll fall one day on a guy, a guy who will send you
From lead in the brain and he'll give you wings