Le Père Noël et la petite fille, incl.Leggenda di Natale; La canzone di Marinella; Bocca di Rosa

Georges Brassens

Originale

An English version of Bocca di Rosa by Simon Evnine

LE PÈRE NOËL ET LA PETITE FILLE, INCL.LEGGENDA DI NATALE; LA CANZONE DI MARINELLA; BOCCA DI ROSA Avec sa hotte sur le dos Avec sa hotte sur le dos Il s'en venait d'Eldorado Il s'en venait d'Eldorado Il avait une barbe blanche Il avait nom "Papa Gâteau" ‎ Il a mis du pain sur ta planche Il a mis les mains sur tes hanches ‎ Il t'a prom'née dans un landeau Il t'a prom'née dans un landeau En route pour la vie d'château En route pour la vie d'château La belle vie dorée sur tranche Il te l'offrit sur un plateau ‎ Il a mis du grain dans ta grange Il a mis les mains sur tes hanches ‎ Toi qui n'avais rien sur le dos Toi qui n'avais rien sur le dos Il t'a couverte de manteaux Il t'a couverte de manteaux Il t'a vêtue comme un dimanche Tu n'auras pas froid de sitôt ‎ Il a mis l'hermine à ta hanche Il a mis les mains sur tes hanches ‎ Tous les camées, tous les émaux Tous les camées, tous les émaux Il les fit pendre à tes rameaux Il les fit pendre à tes rameaux Il fit rouler en avalanches Perles et rubis dans tes sabots ‎ Il a mis de l'or à ta branche Il a mis les mains sur tes hanches ‎ Tire la bell', tir' le rideau Tire la bell', tir' le rideau Sur tes misères de tantôt Sur tes misères de tantôt Et qu'au-dehors il pleuve, il vente Le mauvais temps n'est plus ton lot ‎ Le joli temps des coudées franches On a mis les mains sur tes hanches

ROSE MOUTH Her name was Bocca di Rosa and she thought that nothing, she thought that nothing, Her name was Bocca di Rosa and she thought that nothing was better than love. When her train pulled into Sant’Ilario by the time she had stepped to the ground, the welcoming crowd, at a glance, saw it wasn’t the Church that had sent her to town. There are some who make love for a living, others have nothing better to do. Bocca di Rosa, she wasn’t like either: love was her passion through and through. But a life in the service of passion often will lead you from bed to bed without first finding out of your lover whether his heart’s free or whether he’s wed. And so, from one day to another, Bocca di Rosa found herself prey to the menacing wrath of those bitches whose bones she had taken away. But a village’s meddling gossips great initiative hardly display, so up to this point their revenge had been merely to hurl a few insults her way. Now you know how folks like to advise you – in words Jesus himself might have said – you know how folks like to advise you once they’re too old to paint the town red. Thus an elderly unmarried woman, whose heart now within her was ice, felt required to offer these villagers the benefit of her advice. And approaching the cuckolded wives, she addressed them in words shrewd and wise: “We can bring the love thief to her knees if we call on the proper authorities.” So they went to speak to the Police Chief, and letting all niceties drop, said “this baggage has too many customers - even more than the local co-op.” So the Chief sent around four Gendarmes, wearing their plumes, wearing their plumes, and the Chief sent around four Gendarmes, All the villagers came to the station, from Police Chief to Sacrestan, all the villagers came to the station, with red eyes and hats in hand, to say farewell to one who, though briefly, with nothing to hide, with nothing to hide, to say farewell to one who, though briefly, had brought love to the countryside. There was a yellow banner and on it, written in blue it said, “Goodbye Bocca di Rosa. When you leave us, Spring takes its leave of us too.” News of such strange goings on didn’t need to be published in print to get round; and in no more than just a few minutes they’d heard all the details in the next town. So though many had bid her farewell when she left, there were even more at the next station, throwing kisses and flowers at Bocca di Rosa and trying to make reservations. Even the parish priest who enjoyed, between saying Mass and Confession, the ephemeral pleasures of beauty, decided he wanted her in his procession. So in front of them all went the Virgin and Bocca di Rosa followed in train, and the priest took the two of them out for a walk love sacred and love profane.