Текст и перевод песни Yves Montand - Battling Joe - Live à l'Olympia / 1981

Battling Joe - Live à l'Olympia / 1981

Dans un village noir de charbon
Dans les ch'min? es et les corons
Tout p' tit il battait ses copains
Il? tait fier de ses deux poings
Presqu' autant qu' son p? re le mineur
Qui disait: "? a f' ra un boxeur "
Le jour de son premier combat
Fallait un nom, l' en avait pas
Comme la mode? tait? l' anglais
Il s' appela " Battling Joe "
Battling Joe
C'? tait un peu d? mesur?
Pour un gosse aux? paules? troites
Mais qui avait une m? chante droite
Battling Joe
Il gagna son premier combat
Et le soir m? me avec papa
Il prenait le train pour Paris
O? un boxeur? a vaut son prix
Battling Joe
Il croyait bien en f'sant c' truc-l?? tre plus libre mais voil?
Qui dit boxeur dit manager
Le sien avait une poigne de fer
C'? tait un gars tr? s r? gulier
Qui pour justifier la moiti?
Des bourses de tous ses combats
Lui fit mener une vie d' for? at
" On n' est pas l? pour rigoler "
Qu' il disait? Battling Joe
Battling Joe
Devint un boxeur redout?
Battling faisait des gross' recettes
Battling devint une gross' vedette
Battling Joe
Les dames disaient tout pr? s du ring
" Il est d? licieux ce Battling "
Et elles admiraient son moral
Sans penser qu' les coups? a fait mal
Battling Joe
Battling devint un grand champion
Jusqu' au triste soir o? un gnon
Lui embrouilla soudain les yeux
L' manager dit: " C'est pas s? rieux!
Tu d' viens feignant, fait ton m? tier
Boxe rime pas avec piti?..."
La foule eut p' t'? tr' tort ce soir-l?
De siffler la fin du combat
Malgr? les lampes et leurs? clairs
Battling Joe... h? Joe... ne voyait plus clair
Battling Joe
C' est un nom mait' nant oubli?
Une triste silhouette qui penche
Appuy? e sur une canne blanche
Battling Joe
A tout perdu en un seul soir
Ses yeux son titre et son espoir
Mais il sait comme consolation
Son manager a d' autres champions
Battling Joe

Battling Joe - Live à l'Olympia / 1981

In a village blackened with coal
In the streets and the mining towns
As a little boy, he would beat his friends
He was proud of his two fists
Almost as much as his father, the miner
Who said: "He'll be a boxer"
The day of his first fight
He needed a name, he didn't have one
As the fashion was English
He called himself "Battling Joe"
Battling Joe
He was a bit short
For a kid with narrow shoulders
But who had a wicked right hook
Battling Joe
He won his first fight
And that same evening, with his father
He took the train to Paris
Where a boxer is worth his weight in gold
Battling Joe
He thought by doing this thing he would be freer, but oh my
Who says boxer, says manager
His had an iron grip
He was a very regular guy
Who, to justify taking half
Of the money from all his fights
Made him live like an athlete
"We're not here to fool around"
He would say, Battling Joe
Battling Joe
Became a feared boxer
Battling made big money
Battling became a big star
Battling Joe
The ladies would say, very close to the ring
"This Battling is delicious"
And they admired his spirit
Without thinking that the blows hurt
Battling Joe
Battling became a great champion
Until the sad evening when a punch
Suddenly blurred his vision
The manager said: "This is not serious!"
You're becoming lazy, do your job
Boxing doesn't rhyme with pity..."
The crowd may have been wrong that night
To whistle for the end of the fight
Despite the lights and their flashes
Battling Joe... hey Joe... couldn't see anymore
Battling Joe
It's a name now forgotten
A sad figure who leans
On a white cane
Battling Joe
Lost everything in one night
His eyes, his title, and his hope
But he knows, as consolation
His manager has other champions
Battling Joe