First, first
There's the year, he's like a melon
He's got a big nose
Who knows his name anymore, Sir
So much who drinks
So much that he drank
Who does nothing with his ten fingers
But he who can't take it anymore
He who is completely cooked
And who thinks he is the king
Who gets drunk every night
With bad wine
But who we find in the morning
In the church which is snoozing
Stiff as a projection
White as an Easter candle
And then he stammers
And his eye wanders
I must tell you, Sir
That at home these people
We don't think, Sir
We don't think
We pray
And then there's the other
Carrots in our hair
Who has ever seen a comb
How bad as a moth
Even he would give his shirt
To poor happy people
Who married Denise
A city girl
Finally from another city
And it's not over
Who does her own business
With her little hat
With her little coat
With her little car
Which I would like to look like
But it doesn't look at all
Don't play the rich
When we don't have a penny
I have to tell you, Sir
That among these people
We don't live, Sir
We don't live
We cheat
And then there are the others
The mother who says nothing
Or anything
And from evening to morning
Under her beautiful face of an apter
And in his wooden frame
There is the mustache of the father
Who died of a slip
And who looks at his flock
Drank the cold soup
And made great
(Guff)
And made great
(Guff)
And then there's the very old
That it never stops vibrating
And that we wait for it to die
Since it is she who has the sorrel
And that we listen not even
What his poor hands are saying
I have to tell you, Sir
That among these people
We don't talk, Sir
We don't talk
We're counting
But it's late, Sir
I have to go home