Balada de Madame Frigidaire

I'm postmodernly in love with the new refrigerator
The first white slave I bought came and started the revolution
This eternal feminine of industrial comfort injected itself into my veins, I raised my flag!
And when I put my faith in this fat goddess of technology, I froze with pure emotion!

Now, since I was a teenager I've been shuddering at debutante maids
A domestic electrician then, what sex appeal! It gives me butterflies in my stomach!
This fertility goddess, ready made à la Duchamp, is no longer my lover
She became a superstar, the ideal woman, more than a mother, more than the other
Damn friend!

Mister Andy, the pop pope, and another friend of mine, Syrup, got tired of saying
Why God, Money and Sex, Ideal, Country and Family for those who already have a Frigidaire?
It's Freud, guys! Falling for the flirtation of a woman-object
Oh, I'm confused, madam! And the middle class can suckle if heaven, in time, gives it!

What whiteness in the sensual opening and closing of this Ascetic Our Lady!
With her I go out and betray television, my queen and yours
Mrs. Frigidaire eats me, but no kids double income! Son compromises aesthetics!
Oh, like Oedipus-King-Momo, I eat and take everything from her, delights of frigidity!

Inventors of Madame Frigidaire, I ask for an encore! Thank you very much!
After all, the country's future was put on hold, for better or worse
And a third-rate future, put in the fridge like that, will never be a thing of the past
Oh, may God grant that at the end of the orgy, when my head is clear, I won't be given a cold sweet treat!

Mister Andy, the pop pope, and another friend of mine, Syrup, got tired of saying
Why God, Money and Sex, Ideal, Country and Family for those who already have a Frigidaire?
It's Freud, guys! Falling for the flirtation of a female object
Oh, what an infamous pun! La femme est là-dedans, pourtant j'ai dis au contraire!