Jacques Douai — A la bastoche song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "A la bastoche" by Jacques Douai.
Lyrics
Il était né près du canal
Là-bas dans l’quartier d’l’Arsenal
Sa maman, qu’avait pas d’mari,
L’appelait son petit Henri…
Mais on l’appelait la Filoche,
A la Bastoche.
I’n’faisait pas sa société
Du génie de la liberté,
Il n'était pas républicain,
Il était l’ami du rouquin
Et le p’tit homme à la Méloche,
A la Bastoche.
A c’tte époqu'-là, c'était l’bon temps:
La Méloche avait dix-huit ans,
Et la Filoche était rupin:
Il allait des fois en sapin,
Il avait du jonc dans sa poche,
A la Bastoche.
Mais ça ne peut pas durer toujours,
Après la saison des amours
C’est la mistoufle, et bien souvent,
Faut s’les caler avec du vent
Filer la comète et la cloche,
A la Bastoche.
Un soir qu’il avait pas mangé,
Qu’il rôdait comme un enragé,
Il a, pour barboter l’quibus,
D’un conducteur des omnibus,
Troué la panse et la sacoche,
A la Bastoche.
Et sur la bascule à Charlot,
Il a payé sans dire un mot:
A la Roquette, un beau matin,
Il a montré à ceux d’Pantin,
Comment savait mourir un broche
De la Bastoche !
Il était né près du canal
Là-bas dans l’quartier d’l’Arsenal
Sa maman, qu’avait pas d’mari,
L’appelait son petit Henri…
Mais on l’appelait la Filoche,
A la Bastoche !
Lyrics translation
He was born near the canal
There in the Arsenal district
His mother, who had no husband,
He was called his little Henri…
But it was called The Trickster,
To La Bastoche.
He wasn't his company.
Of the genius of freedom,
He wasn't a Republican.,
He was the friend of the redhead
And the Little Man With The Cock,
To La Bastoche.
At that time, it was a good time.:
The Mallet was eighteen years old,
And The Trickster was rupin:
He used to ride a tree sometimes.,
He had a rod in his pocket.,
To La Bastoche.
But it can't last forever,
After the mating season
It is the mistoufle, and quite often,
You have to stall them with wind
Spinning the comet and the bell,
To La Bastoche.
One night he hadn't eaten,
That he roamed like a madman,
He has, for bubbling the quibus,
From an omnibus driver,
Pierced belly and Satchel,
To La Bastoche.
And on the rocker in Charlot,
He paid without saying a word:
A La Arquette, a fine morning,
He showed those of Pantin,
How did a spit know how to die
From the Bastoche !
He was born near the canal
There in the Arsenal district
His mother, who had no husband,
He was called his little Henri…
But it was called The Trickster,
To La Bastoche !