Lyrics and translation Michael Martin Murphey - Cherokee Fiddle

Cherokee Fiddle

When the train pulled in to the station
He slicked back his hair, rosined up his bow
Fiddle upside down, Orange Blossom Special
If you want to make a living then you've got to put on a good show
When he smelled the smoke and the cinders
Rolled his sleeves up, opened up his case
Played Cherokee Fiddle, played for the whiskey
Good whiskey never let him lose his place
He was always there playing for the miners
Devil's Dream was a tune they all understood
Then he'd go home to Oklahoma
And wait 'till the trains were runnin' and the weather was good
When he smelled the smoke and the cinders
Rolled his sleeves up, opened up his case

Played Cherokee Fiddle, played for the whiskey
Good whiskey never let him lose his place
Now the Indians are dressin' up like cowboys
And the cowboys are puttin' leather and turquoise on
And the music gets sold by the lawyers
And the fools who fiddled in the middle of the stations are gone
Some folks say they'll never miss them
Fiddle screeched like the engine break
Ol' Cherokee Fiddle gone forever
Like the sound that the whistle on an old locomotive make
So when you smell the smoke and the cinders
Slick your hair back, open up your case
Play Cherokee Fiddle, play for the whiskey
Good whiskey never let's you lose your place
No, good whiskey never let's you lose your place

Cherokee Fiddle

Quand le train est arrivé en gare
Il s'est lissé les cheveux, a encollé son archet
Violon à l'envers, Orange Blossom Special
Si tu veux gagner ta vie, il faut faire un bon spectacle
Quand il a senti la fumée et les cendres
Il a retroussé ses manches, ouvert son étui
Il a joué Cherokee Fiddle, joué pour le whisky
Le bon whisky ne l'a jamais laissé perdre sa place
Il était toujours là, jouant pour les mineurs
Devil's Dream était un air qu'ils comprenaient tous
Puis il rentrait chez lui en Oklahoma
Et attendait que les trains roulent et que le temps soit bon
Quand il a senti la fumée et les cendres
Il a retroussé ses manches, ouvert son étui

Il a joué Cherokee Fiddle, joué pour le whisky
Le bon whisky ne l'a jamais laissé perdre sa place
Maintenant les Indiens s'habillent en cow-boys
Et les cow-boys mettent du cuir et des turquoises
Et la musique est vendue par les avocats
Et les fous qui jouaient du violon au milieu des gares ont disparu
Certains disent qu'ils ne leur manqueront jamais
Le violon hurlait comme le frein du moteur
Le vieux Cherokee Fiddle disparu à jamais
Comme le son du sifflet d'une vieille locomotive
Alors quand tu sens la fumée et les cendres
Lisse-toi les cheveux, ouvre ton étui
Joue Cherokee Fiddle, joue pour le whisky
Le bon whisky ne te laisse jamais perdre ta place
Non, le bon whisky ne te laisse jamais perdre ta place