Paroles et traduction Pierre Perret - Le prince

Le prince

Paroles et musique: Pierre Perret, 1957

Rien à se mettre sous la dent
Depuis fort longtemps
Le père la mère et le fils
Fumaient du maïs
La famille fléau désastreux
Était sur eux
Et jusqu'à leur chien bon Dieu
Qui fumait sa queue

Le Prince passe
Il va nous donner du pain
Le Prince passe
Et leur donne du gourdin

Quand on a de l'eau à boire
On voudrait du vin
Sans vin c'est la misère noire
On va pas bien loin
La mort nous guette
Et quand on est mort c'est pour longtemps
Répétait souvent leur chien
Qui était savant

Le Prince passe
Un peu de vin mon bon seigneur
Le Prince passe
Allez vous faire pendre ailleurs
Leur bonheur fut qu'un matin
Un cochon fourbu
Cherchait passant près du chien
Son chemin perdu
C'est celui de la marmite
Qui lui fut indiqué
Du festin le chien content
Se curait les dents

Le Prince passe
Bien le bonjour monsieur le patron
Le Prince passe
Pour les mener en prison
A bas les pénitenciers inhospitaliers
Bien qu'on ait la tête à l'ombre
Y a aussi les pieds
Mais par un beau clair de lune
Ils se sont envolés
Vers d'autres cochons perdus
Pour recommencer

Le Prince passe
On va lui jouer un bon tour
Le Prince passe
A la casserole à son tour

The Prince

Lyrics and music: Pierre Perret, 1957

Nothing to sink our teeth into, my love,
For a very long time.
The father, the mother, and the son,
Were smoking corn silk.
The family, a disastrous plague,
Was upon them.
And even their dog, good heavens,
Was smoking his tail.

The Prince passes by,
"He'll give us some bread," they cry.
The Prince passes by,
And gives them a beating, oh my!

When you have water to drink, my dear,
You'd like some wine, it's clear.
Without wine, it's black misery,
You don't go very far, you see.
Death is watching us, it's true,
And when you're dead, it's for a long time, too.
Their dog would often repeat this line,
A very learned canine.

The Prince passes by,
"A little wine, my good lord," they sigh.
The Prince passes by,
"Go hang yourselves elsewhere!" is his reply.
Their luck was that one morning bright,
A worn-out pig, what a sight,
Passing near the dog, so keen,
Had lost his way, it would seem.
It's the way to the cooking pot, you see,
That was shown to him, readily.
Of the feast, the happy dog, so grand,
Was cleaning his teeth, close at hand.

The Prince passes by,
"Good day, Mr. Boss," they try.
The Prince passes by,
To take them to prison, oh my!
Down with inhospitable penitentiaries,
Although our heads are in the shade, my dear,
Our feet are there too, I fear.
But by a beautiful moonlight, so free,
They flew away, you and me,
Towards other lost pigs, they'd roam,
To start all over again, back home.

The Prince passes by,
"We'll play him a good trick," they cry.
The Prince passes by,
Into the cooking pot, it's his turn to fry!