La femme d'Hector

In our Tower of Babel
Which one is the fairest
The most lovable among
The women of our friends?
Which one is our true nanny
The little one among the poor of us
Always in bad luck
Who is this benevolent fairy?

It's not Bertrand's woman
Not Gontrand's woman
Not Pamphile's woman
It's not Firmin's woman
Not Germain's woman
Nor Benjamin's woman
It's not Honoré's woman
Nor Désiré's woman
Nor Théophile's woman
Even less Nestor's woman
No, it's Hector's woman

As we dance in front
Of the buffet often
We always have more or less
Arms riddled with holes
Who mends these misfortunes
With threads of all colors
Who embroiders, divine seamstress
Rainbows on our socks?

When our hand is taken
Holy God in a bag
And we are sent to plant
Cabbages at the Santé
Who is the one who, taking example
From the virtues of faithful dogs
Stays at the stop in front of the door
Waiting for us to come out

And when one of us dies
We are asked
To clear the hotel
Of its mortal remains
Who is the one who stirs up all of Paris
So that they give her, at the lowest price
Gigantic funerals
Not national, but almost

And when May comes
The lovely time to love
When without an echo, in the courtyards
We howl for love
Who is the one who pities us a lot
Who is the one who jumps into our arms
Who gives us her tenderness
All her savings of caresses

Let's not throw the pieces
Of our hearts to the pigs
Let's not lose our cool
For the sake of puppets
Let's not sing the language of the gods
For the fools, the ass-kissers
The snobs, nor the dandies
The prudes, nor the snobs

Not for Bertrand's woman
Not for Gontrand's woman
Not for Pamphile's woman
Nor for Firmin's woman
Not for Germain's woman
Not for Benjamin's woman
Nor for Honoré's woman
Désiré's woman
Théophile's woman
Even less for Nestor's woman
But for Hector's woman