Текст и перевод песни Aristide Bruant - A biribi

A biribi

Y en a qui font la mauvais' tête
Au régiment,
I's tir' au cul, ils font la bête
Inutil'ment
Quand i's veulent pus fair' l'exercice
Et tout l' fourbi
On les envoi' fair' leur service
A Biribi.

A Biribi, c'est en Afrique
Où qu'le pus fort
Est obligé d'poser sa chique
Et d'fair' le mort;
Où que l'pus malin désespère
De fair' chibi,
Car on peut jamais s'faire la paire,
A Biribi.

A Biribi, c'est là qu'on marche,
Faut pas flancher
Quand le chaouch crie: "En avant! marche!"
I' faut marcher,
Et quand on veut fair' des épates,
C'est peau d'zebi:
On vous fout les fers aux quat' pattes
A Biribi.

A Biribi, c'est là qu'on crève
De soif et d'faim
C'est là qu'i faut marner sans treve
Jusqu'à la fin!...
Le soir, on pense à la famille,
Sous le bourbi...
On pleure encor' quand on roupille,
A Biribi.

A Biribi, c'est là qu'on râle
On râle en rut,
La nuit on entend hurler l'mâle
Qu'aurait pas cru
Qu'un jour i' s'rait forcé d' connaître
Mam'zelle Bibi,
Car tôt ou tard il faut en être,
A Biribi.

On est sauvag', lâche et féroce,
Quand on en r'vient...
Si par hasard on fait un gosse,
On se souvient...
On aim'rait mieux, quand on s'rappelle
C'qu'on a subi,
Voir son enfant à la Nouvelle
Qu'à Biribi.

A biribi

There are some who sulk
In the regiment,
They pull up their trousers, play the beast
Uselessly
When they no longer want to exercise
And all the drills
They are sent to do their service
At Biribi.

At Biribi, it's in Africa
Where the strongest
Is forced to lay down his chew
And play dead;
Where the smartest one despairs
Of making it,
Because you can never make a pair,
At Biribi.

At Biribi, that's where we march
You can't flinch
When the chaouch shouts: "Forward! March!"
You have to march,
And when you want to make a splash,
It's zebra skin:
They put you in irons on all fours
At Biribi.

At Biribi, that's where you die
Of thirst and hunger
That's where you have to toil without respite
Until the end!...
In the evening, you think of your family,
Under the mud...
You still cry when you snooze,
At Biribi.

At Biribi, that's where you grumble
You grumble in heat,
At night you hear the male roar
Who would not have believed
That one day he would be forced to know
Mam'zelle Bibi,
Because sooner or later you have to be there,
At Biribi.

You are savage, cowardly and fierce,
When you come back...
If by chance you have a child,
You remember...
You would rather, when you remember
What you have suffered,
See his child in New Caledonia
Than in Biribi.