Текст и перевод песни Aristide Bruant - A Batignolles

A Batignolles

Sa maman s'appelait Flora,
A connaissait pas son papa,
Tout' jeune on la mit? l'? cole,
A Batignolles.

A poussa comme un champignon,
Malgr? qu'alle ait r'? u pus d'un gnon,
L'soir en faisant la cabriole,
A Batignolles.

Alle avait des mani? r's tr? s bien,
Alle? tait coiff? e? la chien,
A chantait comme eun' petit' folle,
A Batignolles.

Quand a s'balladait, sous l'ciel bleu,
Avec ses ch'veux couleur de feu,
On croyait voir une aur? ole,
A Batignolles.

Alle avait encor' tout's ses dents,
Son p'tit nez, o? squ'i' pleuvait d'dans,
Etait rond comme eun' croquignolle,
A Batignolles.

A buvait pas, mais assez,
Et quand a vous soufflait dans l'nez
On croyait r'nifler du p? trole,
A Batignolles.

Ses appas? taient pas ben gros,
Mais j'me disais: Quand on est dos,
On peut nager avec eun' sole,
A Batignolles.

A gagnait pas beaucoup d'argent,
Mais j'? tais pas ben exigeant!...
On vend d'l'amour pour eun obole,
A Batignolles.

Je l'ai aim? e autant qu'j'ai pu,
Mais j'ai pus pu lorsque j'ai su
Qu'a m'trompait avec Anatole,
A Batignolles.

Ca d'vait arriv?, t? t ou tard,
Car Anatol' c'est un mouchard...
La marmite aim' ben la cass'rol,
A Batignolles.

Alors a m'a donn? cong?,
Mais le bon Dieu m'a ben veng?:
A vient d'mourir de la variole,
A Batignolles.

La moral' de c'tte oraison-l?,
C'est qu'les p'tit's fill's qu'a pas d'papa,
Doiv'nt jamais aller? l'? cole,
A Batignolles.

At Batignolles

Her mother was called Flora,
She did not know her father,
She was put to school when she was very young,
At Batignolles.

She grew up like a mushroom,
Although she received more than one blow,
In the evening, doing cabrioles,
At Batignolles.

She had very good manners,
She wore her hair in a chignon,
She sang like a little mad girl,
At Batignolles.

When she walked about under the blue sky,
With her hair the color of fire,
One thought one saw a halo,
At Batignolles.

She still had all her teeth,
Her little nose, where it rained inside,
Was as round as a snail shell,
At Batignolles.

She did not drink, but enough,
And when she blew her breath in your nose
One thought one was sniffing petrol,
At Batignolles.

Her charms were not very great,
But I said to myself: When one is on one's back,
One can swim with a sole,
At Batignolles.

She did not earn much money,
But I was not very demanding!...
One sells love for a penny,
At Batignolles.

I loved her as much as I could,
But I could no longer do so when I learned
That she deceived me with Anatole,
At Batignolles.

It had to happen, sooner or later,
For Anatole is a mouchard...
The kettle loves the saucepan,
At Batignolles.

Then she gave me notice,
But the good God has avenged me well:
She has just died of smallpox,
At Batignolles.

The moral of this story is,
That little girls who have no father,
Should never go to school,
At Batignolles.