Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song L'assassinat , by - Georges Brassens. Song from the album Tout Brassens (100 classiques), in the genre ЭстрадаRelease date: 05.09.2015
Record label: Puzzle
Song language: French
L'assassinat(original) |
| C’est pas seulement à Paris |
| Que le crime fleurit |
| Nous, au village, aussi, l’on a |
| De beaux assassinats |
| Il avait la tête chenu' |
| Et le coeur ingénu |
| Il eut un retour de printemps |
| Pour une de vingt ans |
| Mais la chair fraîch', la tendre chair |
| Mon vieux, ça coûte cher |
| Au bout de cinq à six baisers |
| Son or fut épuisé |
| Quand sa menotte elle a tendu' |
| Triste, il a répondu |
| Qu’il était pauvre comme Job |
| Elle a remis sa rob' |
| Elle alla quérir son coquin |
| Qui avait l’appât du gain |
| Sont revenus chez le grigou |
| Faire un bien mauvais coup |
| Et pendant qu’il le lui tenait |
| Elle l’assassinait |
| On dit que, quand il expira |
| La langue ell' lui montra |
| Mirent tout sens dessus dessous |
| Trouvèrent pas un sou |
| Mais des lettres de créanciers |
| Mais des saisi’s d’huissiers |
| Alors, prise d’un vrai remords |
| Elle eut chagrin du mort |
| Et, sur lui, tombant à genoux |
| Ell' dit: «Pardonne-nous !» |
| Quand les gendarm’s sont arrivés |
| En pleurs ils l’ont trouvé' |
| C’est une larme au fond des yeux |
| Qui lui valut les cieux |
| Et le matin qu’on la pendit |
| Ell' fut en paradis |
| Certains dévots, depuis ce temps |
| Sont un peu mécontents |
| C’est pas seulement à Paris |
| Que le crime fleurit |
| Nous, au village, aussi, l’on a |
| De beaux assassinats |
| (translation) |
| It's not just in Paris |
| Let crime flourish |
| We in the village also have |
| Beautiful Assassinations |
| He had a gray head |
| And the ingenuous heart |
| There was a spring return |
| For a twenty year old |
| But fresh flesh, tender flesh |
| Dude, it's expensive |
| After five to six kisses |
| His gold was exhausted |
| When her handcuff she stretched' |
| Sad, he replied |
| That he was poor like Job |
| She put her dress back on |
| She went to fetch her rascal |
| Who had the lure of gain |
| Came back to the grigou |
| Take a bad shot |
| And while he held it to her |
| She murdered him |
| It is said that when he expired |
| The tongue she showed him |
| Turn everything upside down |
| Didn't find a penny |
| But letters from creditors |
| But seized by bailiffs |
| So, seized with real remorse |
| She was sorry for the dead |
| And, on him, falling to his knees |
| She said, "Forgive us!" |
| When the cops arrived |
| In tears they found him' |
| It's a tear in the eyes |
| which brought him the heavens |
| And the morning they hanged her |
| She was in heaven |
| Some devotees since that time |
| Are a little unhappy |
| It's not just in Paris |
| Let crime flourish |
| We in the village also have |
| Beautiful Assassinations |