La java de cézigue

Cézigue is a little guy
With chubby cheeks like an apple
Playing the accordion
In the evening at a diner on Charenton Street
Hop!
You gotta see him in his cap
Dressed like a plate smasher
And his little stub of a cigarette
That makes him blink those lights nonstop
Usually, music
Is funny, it makes me wanna nap
It makes me feel down
And I don’t feel like dancing at all
Oh yeah, but when it’s little Cézigue
In his shirt sleeves doing his thing
He pulls sounds from his accordion
It gives you chills
You hear it ringing in your ears
That all javas are the same
And those who say that
Just don’t know
Cézigue and his dance. Hop!

When Cézigue hits a note
The girl doesn’t catch flies
And the square by the hotel
Suddenly becomes a branch of heaven
And then the crush fades
For a word that’s out of place
It’s no more fun
Cézigue’s dressed up
Like a beat-up machine
When an ordinary guy
Corrects a lady because he’s on edge
It stirs up the dust
And five minutes later, it’s all sorted
Ah! Oh yeah, but when it’s little Cézigue
In his shirt sleeves doing his thing
He’s throwing punches
Oh damn it
What a show
You hear it ringing in your ears
That all javas are the same
Well, those who say that
Just don’t know
Cézigue and his dance
Hop!

You can bet that Cézigue
Doesn’t come from a box of picks
Like they ask everywhere
To do anything
It’s never for cash
Or to be just like the buddies
We’ll play it again at cards
Or on a loser
Who’s making big moves on the lawn
But no! Ah!
Not for a year in hiding
Without having driven a Bugatti
Like a gigolo
He’s got a bank account
And a nice little crib by the water
So when you see Cézigue
In his shirt sleeves doing his thing
Without a care
Even the foreigners
Say: "He knows how to swim"
You hear it ringing in your ears
That life isn’t a wonder
Hah!
Well, those who say that
Just don’t know
Cézigue and his dance.

Hop!