Yves Montand — Ma douce vallée song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Ma douce vallée" by Yves Montand.
Lyrics
Traîné d’un air nonchalant
Par deux juments paresseuses
Un chariot va lentement
Sur la route poussiéreuse
Le garçon qui tient les rênes
Fixe d’un il fatigué
Les grands peupliers piqués
Le long de l’immense plaine
Il est triste et il chante
Qu’elle était verte ma vallée!
Qu’elle était douce à regarder!
Il faisait bon y travailler
Il faisait bon s’y reposer
Il porte un vieux pantalon
Une chemise à carreaux
Sur la tête un grand chapeau
Aux souliers des éperons
C’est un cow-boy qui trimballe
Dans un chariot qui brinqu’balle
Les restes de sa maison
Misérable cargaison
Il est triste et il chante
Qu’elle était verte ma vallée!
Qu’elle était douce à regarder!
Il faisait bon y travailler
Il faisait bon s’y reposer
Pour faire passer sur sa terre
Les rails du chemin de fer
Des messieurs bien habillés
Lui ont dit «Faut t’en aller»
Fuyant le bruit des machines
Et la fumée des usines
Dans un chariot délabré
Il va vers sa liberté
En chantant simplement
Qu’elle était verte ma vallée!
Qu’elle était douce à regarder!
Il faisait bon y travailler
Il faisait bon s’y reposer
Sur la route poussiéreuse
Un chariot va lentement
Lyrics translation
Dragged with a nonchalant air
By two lazy mares
A trolley goes slowly
On the dusty road
The boy who holds the reins
Fixed from a tired he
The large piqued poplars
Along the huge plain
He's sad and he's singing
That it was Green My Valley!
That she was sweet to look at!
It was good to work there
It was good to rest there
He's wearing old pants.
A plaid shirt
On the head a large hat
To the shoes of the Spurs
It's a cowboy who walks around
In a carriage that brinqu ' ball
The remains of his house
Miserable cargo
He's sad and he's singing
That it was Green My Valley!
That she was sweet to look at!
It was good to work there
It was good to rest there
To pass on his land
Railway tracks
Well-dressed gentlemen
They told him, " You have to go.»
Fleeing the noise of machines
And smoke from factories
In a dilapidated cart
He goes to his freedom
By simply singing
That it was Green My Valley!
That she was sweet to look at!
It was good to work there
It was good to rest there
On the dusty road
A trolley goes slowly