Ces gens-là

First there is the eldest
He who is like a melon
He who has a big nose
He who doesn't remember his name
Mister who drinks so much
Or who has drunk so much
Who does nothing with his ten fingers
But he who can't take it anymore
He who is completely cooked
And who thinks he's the king

Who gets drunk every night
With bad wine
But is found in the morning
In the church sleeping
Stiff as a board
White as an Easter candle
And then he mumbles
And his eyes wander

I must tell you
Sir
That with those people
One does not think
Sir
One does not think, one prays

And then, there is the other
Carrots in his hair
Who has never seen a comb
Who is mean as a scabies
Even though he would give his shirt
To happy poor people
Who married Denise
A girl from the city
Well, from another city
And it's not over

Who does his little business
With his little hat
With his little coat
With his little car
Who would like to look the part
But doesn't look it at all
Don't play rich
When you're broke

I must tell you
Sir
That with those people
One does not live
Sir
One does not live, one cheats

And then, there are the others
The mother who says nothing
Or anything
And from evening to morning
Under her beautiful apostle face
And in her wooden frame
There's the father's mustache
Who died from a slip
And watches his flock
Eat cold soup
And it makes big splashes
And it makes big splashes

And then there's the very old one
Who can't stop shaking
And we're waiting for her to die
Since she's the one with the money
And we don't even listen
To what her poor hands tell

I must tell you
Sir
That with those people
One doesn't chat
Sir
One doesn't chat, one counts

And then and then
And then there's Frida
Who is beautiful as a sun
And who loves me the same
As I love Frida

Even though we often say
That we'll have a house
With lots of windows
With almost no walls
And we'll live inside
And it'll be good to be there
And if it's not certain
It's still maybe
Because the others don't want
Because the others don't want
The others say like this
That she's too beautiful for me
That I'm barely good
At slitting cats' throats
I've never killed cats
Or maybe a long time ago
Or I forgot
Or they didn't smell good
Well, they don't want

Sometimes when we see each other
As if it's not on purpose
With her eyes watering
She says she'll leave
She says she'll follow me
So for a moment
For just a moment
Then I believe her
Sir
For a moment
For just a moment
Because with those people
Sir
We don't leave
We don't leave
Sir
We don't leave

But it's late
Sir
I have to go home