Malbrough s'en va-t-en guerre, ou Mort et convoi de l'invincible Malbrough
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Marlbrook the Prince of Commanders, la versione inglese/americana... | |
LE CONVOI DU DUC DE GUISE Qui veut ouïr chanson ? Qui veut ouïr chanson ? C'est le grand Duc de Guise Et bon bon bon bon Di dan di dan bon Qu'est mort et enterré. Qu'est mort et enterré Qu'est mort et enterré Aux quatre coins du poële Et bon bon bon bon Di dan di dan bon Quat' gentilshomm's y'avait! Quat' gentilshomm's y'avait! Quat' gentilshomm's y'avait! Dont l'un portait son casque Et bon bon bon bon Di dan di dan bon Et l'autre ses pistolets. Et l'autre ses pistolets Et l'autre ses pistolets Et l'autre son épée Et bon bon bon bon Di dan di dan bon Qu'a tant d'Huguenots tués! Qu'a tant d'Huguenots tués! Qu'a tant d'Huguenots tués! Venait le quatrième Et bon bon bon bon Di dan di dan bon Qu'était le plus dolent! Qu'était le plus dolent Qu'était le plus dolent Après venaient les pages Et bon bon bon bon Di dan di dan bon Et les valets de pied! Et les valets de pied Et les valets de pied Avecque de grands crêpes Et bon bon bon bon Di dan di dan bon Et des souliers cirés. Et des souliers cirés Et des souliers cirés Et des beaux bas d'étames Et bon bon bon bon Di dan di dan bon Et des culotes de piau. Et des culottes de piau Et des culottes de piau La cérémonie faite Et bon bon bon bon Di dan di dan bon Chacun s'alla coucher. Chacun s'alla coucher Chacun s'alla coucher Les uns ave leurs femmes Et bon bon bon bon Di dan di dan bon Et les autres... tout seuls | MARLBROOK THE PRINCE OF COMMANDERS Marlbrook the Prince of Commanders Is gone to war in Flanders, His fame is like Alexander's, But when will he ever come home? Mironton, mironton, mirontaine. Perhaps at Trinity Feast, or Perhaps he may come at Easter, Egad! he had better make haste or We fear he may never come home. Mironton, mironton, mirontaine. For Trinity Feast is over, And has brought no news from Dover, And Easter is pass'd moreover, And Malbrook still delays. Mironton, mironton, mirontaine. Milady in her watch-tower Spends many a pensive hour, Not knowing why or how her Dear lord from England stays. Mironton, mironton, mirontaine. While sitting quite forlorn in That tower, she spies returning A page clad in deep mourning, With fainting steps and slow. Mironton, mironton, mirontaine. "O page, prithee come faster! What news do you bring of your master? I fear there is some disaster, Your looks are so full of woe." Mironton, mironton, mirontaine. "The news I bring fair lady," With sorrowful accent said he, "Is one you are not ready So soon, alas! to hear. Mironton, mironton, mirontaine. "But since to speak I'm hurried," Added this page, quite flurried, "Malbrook is dead and buried!" And here he shed a tear. Mironton, mironton, mirontaine. "He's dead! He's dead as a herring! For I beheld his berring, And four officers transferring His corpse away from the field. Mironton, mironton, mirontaine. "One officer carried his sabre, And he carried it not without labour, Much envying his next neighbour, Who only bore a shield. Mironton, mironton, mirontaine. "The third was helmet bearer - That helmet which in its wearer Fill'd all who saw it with terror, And cover'd a hero's brains. Mironton, mironton, mirontaine. "Now, having got so far, I Find that – by the Lord Harry!- The fourth is left nothing to carry.- So there the thing remains." Mironton, mironton, mirontaine. |