L'orphelin

Except in the frequent case, alas! Where they are real jerks, One should never lose Their father and mother, of course, but Unless you're a clever little one Who dies before becoming an orphan, Or an unfortunate bastard, It's bound to happen sooner or later. When wrapping themselves in a shroud His parents leave him all alone, The little orphan, my word, Is truly to be pitied. However, Without going as far as decreeing That he becomes a spoiled child, Let's say that in his affliction He finds compensations. First, for dessert right away The best part of the cake, And then no more school, damn it Only on rare occasions. He's treated like a king, In his place, the cat gets whipped, And finding him very chic in mourning, The girls wink at him. It would be too absurd To list in detail The favors and privileges That are granted to him in this case. Even drawing such benefits By losing their parents, some Ungrateful sons regret Not having only two to lose. Yesterday I said to a cop Who wanted to harm me: I'm an orphan, you know? He replied: I don't care. If I had been forty years younger I'm sure that with witnesses The brute would have been put in his place. But those cowards didn't move. So my child, if you must Be an orphan, hurry up. As for losing your dear parents, Little one, don't wait to be grown up: The orphan of legal age No one pities him: nothing! And for everyone he remains An orphan of the eleventh hour. The one who made this song Wanted to say in his own way, That the loss of the old is Sometimes a dry loss, joke aside. With age it's quite normal, The wounds of the heart heal poorly. Often times, even, alas! They never close again.