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As I write these words to you I shudder
With all my being,
When you read them I would have put
My nose to the window
I've been awake since midnight,
My poor Toinette,
I hear some kind of noise,
At La Roquette.
L'Prà ©resident will not have wanted
Sign my pardon,
No doubt it will be displeased
That I'll break it
If we pardoned with each blow
It would be so nice,
From time to time we have to cut a neck,
A la Roquette.
Up there, the sun whitens the skies,
The night is ending,
They are going to arrive, these gentlemen,
There goes the day that is dawning.
Now 'Nant I hear, distinctly,
The people on the loose,
Who sing to the tune of Lenterrment,
A la Roquette.
All that, see -you, it doesn't do anything to me,
What paralyzes me
It's that we have to cut, before mine,
The collar of my shirt
Thinking of the cold of the scissors,
To the toilet,
I'm afraid of feeling cold in my bones,
To the Arugula.
So I'm going to stiffen up to walk,
Without it moving me,
It's not me I wanted to flinch
In front of the widow
I don't want people to say that I was nervous
The glasses,
Before sneezing in the bag
At the Roquette.