Текст и перевод песни Pierre Perret - Le cul de Lucette

Le cul de Lucette

Quelquefois je me glace
J′aime mieux remettre les choses en place
Et j'en veux? ces gens
Qui s′expriment comme des glands
Vous messieurs dans la rue
Quand vous matez un beau cul
Vous murmurez bon sang de bois
Quel beau derri? re elle a
{Refrain:}
Dieu que ce langage-l? me blesse
Parler ainsi d'une belle paire de fesses
Laissez-moi glorifier sans fa? ons
De nos dames ce noble tron? on
Y a d'abord le cul rond
Le cul qui se fait pas de mouron
Tr? s? l′aise dans la mouise
Autant que chez la marquise
Y a le cul bas le mis? rable
Cui qui fait des trous dans le sable
Et y a le cul rebondi
Qui marque toujours midi
{Refrain:}
Mon pr? f? r? c′est celui de Lucette
Son merveilleux p'tit cul en trompette
C′est la mappemonde du bonheur
C'est vraiment lui le cul de mon c? ur
Y a le cul un peu teigne
Qui aurait besoin d′un coup de peigne
Pis y a le cul de Ren? e
Qui souhaite la bonne ann? e
Y a le cul prol? taire
Faut? tre deux pour le faire taire
Et le cul aristo
Qui dit jamais de gros mots
{Refrain:}
Mon pr? f? r? c'est celui de Lucette
Le seul qui ait des senteurs de violette
Quand je le vois pas d′une semaine je pleure
C'est vraiment lui le cul de mon c? ur
Y a le cul de Florence
Qui dit toujours ce qu'il pense
Et y a le cul de Maguy
Cui qui est ferm? le mardi
Quand il pleut celui qui frise
C′est le gentil cul de Maryse
Qui r? sonne comme un tambour
Et gagne tous les concours
{Refrain:}
Mon pr? f? r? c′est celui de Lucette
Le seul qui se monte jamais la t? te
Qui sait? tre l? dans le malheur
C'est vraiment lui le cul de mon c? ur
Y a les culs? moustache
Les coiffeurs se les arrachent
Et les culs les plus cot? s
Ceux qui ont la raie de c? t?
Les culott? s les cupides
Y a les culs qui prennent le bide
Les culs fan? s de jadis
En forme de fleur de lys
{Refrain:}
Mon pr? f? r? c′est celui de Lucette
C'est le paradis en chemisette
C′est un cul class? de grand seigneur
C'est vraiment lui le cul de mon c? ur
J′ai couru j'ai bien v? cu
J'ai vu des milliers de culs
Mais y a que le cul br? silien
Dont l′ar? me se retient
J′ai vu les culs des mouk? res
Qui ont besoin d'une moustiquaire
J′ai vu le cul d'Ashi Moto
Cui qui prend des photos
{Refrain:}
Mais je pr? f? re quand m? me celui de Lucette
Ne le fr? lez pas de vos fourchettes
Vous les taste-fesses amateurs
C′est vraiment lui le cul de mon c? ur

Lucette's Bum

Sometimes I get chills,
I prefer to set things straight.
And I'm angry at those people,
Who express themselves like fools.
You gentlemen in the street,
When you check out a nice ass,
You mutter "good heavens,"
What a beautiful behind she has.
{Chorus:}
God, that language hurts me,
Talking like that about a beautiful pair of buttocks.
Let me glorify without shame,
This noble section of our ladies.
First, there's the round bum,
The bum that doesn't worry,
Very comfortable in poverty,
As much as at the Marquise's.
There's the low bum, the miserable one,
The one that makes holes in the sand.
And there's the bouncy bum,
That always marks noon.
{Chorus:}
My favorite is Lucette's,
Her wonderful little trumpet-shaped bum.
It's the world map of happiness,
It's truly the bum of my heart.
There's the slightly mangy bum,
That would need a good combing.
And then there's Renee's bum,
Wishing you a Happy New Year.
There's the proletarian bum,
It takes two to silence it.
And the aristocratic bum,
That never says bad words.
{Chorus:}
My favorite is Lucette's,
The only one with the scent of violets.
When I don't see it for a week, I cry,
It's truly the bum of my heart.
There's Florence's bum,
That always says what it thinks.
And there's Maguy's bum,
The one that's closed on Tuesdays.
When it rains, the one that curls,
It's the sweet bum of Maryse,
That sounds like a drum,
And wins all the contests.
{Chorus:}
My favorite is Lucette's,
The only one that never gets a big head.
Who knows how to be there in misfortune,
It's truly the bum of my heart.
There are the mustached bums,
Hairdressers fight over them.
And the most sought-after bums,
Those with the side part.
The greedy ones in panties,
There are the bums that take the belly.
The faded bums of yesteryear,
Shaped like a fleur-de-lis.
{Chorus:}
My favorite is Lucette's,
It's paradise in a T-shirt.
It's a high-class bum,
It's truly the bum of my heart.
I've run, I've lived well,
I've seen thousands of bums,
But there's only the Brazilian bum,
Whose soul is retained.
I've seen the bums of the moukères,
Who need a mosquito net.
I've seen Ashi Moto's bum,
The one that takes pictures.
{Chorus:}
But I still prefer Lucette's,
Don't graze it with your forks,
You amateur ass-grabbers,
It's truly the bum of my heart.