Christophe — La Non-Demande En Mariage song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "La Non-Demande En Mariage" by Christophe.
Lyrics
Ma mie, de grâce, ne mettons
Pas sous la gorge à Cupidon
Sa propre flèche,
Tant d’amoureux l’ont essayé Qui, de leur bonheur, ont payé Ce sacrilège
J’ai l’honneur de Ne pas te demander
Ta main,
Ne gravons pas
Nos noms au bas
D’un parchemin.
Laissons le champ libre à l’oiseau,
Nous serons tous les deux prisonniers
Sur parole,
Au diable les maîtresses queux
Qui attachent les cÅ urs aux queu’s
Des casseroles!
VÃ(c)nus se fait vieille souvent,
Elle perd son latin devant
La lèche-frite
A aucun prix, moi, je ne veux
Effeuiller dans le pot-au-feu
La marguerite.
On leur ôte bien des attraits,
En dÃ(c)voilant trop les secrets
De MÃ(c)lusine.
L’encre des billets doux pâlit
Vite entre les feuillets des livres
De cuisine.
Il peut sembler de tout repos
De mettre à l’ombre, au fond d’un pot
De confiture,
La jolie pomme dÃ(c)fendue,
Mais elle est cuite, elle a perdu
Son goÃ"t nature.
De servante n’ai pas besoin
Et du mÃ(c)nage et de ses soins
Je te dispense
Qu’en Ã(c)ternelle fiancÃ(c)e,
A la dame de mes pensÃ(c)e
Toujours je pense
Lyrics translation
My mine, thanks, we put
Not under the throat of Cupid
His own arrow,
So many lovers have tried it who, for their happiness, have paid for this sacrilege
I have the honor not to ask you
Your hand,
Let's not burn
Our names at the bottom
A parchment.
Let's leave the field free to the bird,
We'll both be prisoners
On word of mouth,
To hell with the Masters queux
Who attach hearts to queu's
Pots and pans!
VÃ (c)naked gets old often,
She loses her latin in front of
La Lache-frite
At no cost, I do not want
Stripping in the pot-au-feu
The Daisy.
We are very attractive to them,
In D (c)hiding too much secrets
By me (c)lusine.
The ink of soft dough banknotes
Fast between the sheets of the books
Kitchen.
It may seem from any rest
To put in the shade, at the bottom of a pot
Of jam,
The pretty split(c)Apple,
But she's cooked, she's lost
Its taste nature.
Maid don't need
And of the mà (C) nage and its care
I'll spare you
That in (C) ternelle fiance (c) e,
To the lady of my thoughts (c)e
Always I think