Les touristes

The pale complexion, coming from who knows where
From early June to the end of August
Finally escapes a pack of wolves
Who dreamed of a life of luxury
With a conquering air in their superb cars
They will drive like tanks
They leave proud, with a vacant look and high forehead
To invade our beaches and countryside

The tourists, the tourists, the tourists
All fired up, taking all the risks
They swim anywhere, they want to climb everywhere
They want their money's worth!
The tourists, the tourists, the tourists
They are never allowed to be sad
They live in society, well organized
And they are not embarrassed when it's time to go to bed
In tight rows, like in the army

The hotter it gets, the more they show their skin
It rarely makes a pretty picture
But for sure, they take a photo
That they will show to their jailbird friends
In two weeks, they are disfigured
By the efforts they made to tan
And without complexes, they want in front of our noses
To snatch our daughters and companions

The tourists, the tourists, the tourists
Full of joy, it wriggles, it stirs
Overflowing with ardor, seeking the soulmate
Playing the flirt
The tourists, the tourists, the tourists
Sniffing and following all the leads
Flirting in society, yeah, well organized
And not embarrassed when it's time to go to bed
In pairs like in the army

The tourists, the tourists, the tourists
Thinking and playing the artists
Thinking they're Belmondo
Meeting Bardot
But one day without a word

The tourists, the tourists, the tourists
Taking one last lap around the track
Covering their skin, when they must all sheepishly
Get back in their car
The tourists, the tourists, the tourists
Becoming yuck, all sad and gloomy
At the end of the party, when they retreat
Crossing with heavy hearts, strange animals
Who will play in their turn for 31 days
- What? Well...
The tourists, the tourists, the tourists!