Mon Père disait

My father used to say
It's the northern wind
That cracks the dikes
In Scheveningen
In Scheveningen, little one
So strong
That you no longer know who's sailing
The North Sea
Or the dikes
It's the northern wind
That pierces the eyes
Of the northern men
Young or old
To make the blue bells sing
From the north
Deep in their eyes
My father used to say
It's the northern wind
That turns the head
Around Bruges
Around Bruges, little one
It's the northern wind
That planed the earth
Around the towers
The towers of Bruges
And that our girls
Have a calm gaze
From old cities
From old cities
That our beauties
Have fragile hair
From our lace
From our lace
My father used to say
It's the northern wind
That cracked the earth
Between Zeebrugge
Between Zeebrugge, little one
It's the North wind
That cracked the earth
Between Zeebrugge and England
And London is no longer
As it was before the flood
The fist of Bruges
Defying the sea
London is nothing more
Than the suburb of Bruges
Lost at sea
Lost at sea
But my father used to say
It's the northern wind
That will carry my soulless body
To the ground
Without anger
It's the northern wind
That will carry my soulless body
Facing the sea
It's the northern wind
That will make me captain
Of a breakwater
Or a whale
It's the northern wind
That will make me captain
Of a tear-breaker
For those I love