Lily Fayol — Tico-Tico song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Tico-Tico" by Lily Fayol.
Lyrics
Tico-Tico par-ci, Tico-Tico par-là
Dans tout Séville, on n’entend plus que ce nom-là
Il passe par ici, il va passer par là
Comme il est beau dans son costume de gala !
Coiffé d’un sombrero, les cuisses bien à plat
Sur son cheval, il se promène à petits pas
De sa moustache en croc lustrée de gomina
Il fait rêver tous les jupons de la rambla.
On dit tout bas que son grand-père était corsaire
Qu’il faisait la traite des noirs à Buenos Aires
Et patati et patata, dans la maison qu’il habita
Tout le gratin de l’Alcala y défila
Tico-Tico devint l’unique légataire
De son magot, de son cheval et de ses terres
Il peut garder devant chacun son sombrero
C’est un vrai caballero, Tico-Toco.
Tico-Tico par-ci, Tico-Tico par-là
Mais que fait-il exactement ce garçon-là?
Sur le coup de midi, il prend son malaga
Pour remplir toute une journée ça n’suffit pas
Pour être plus précis, un jour on le pressa
De s’expliquer à la police sur son cas
Mais un gendarme dit quand on le relâcha:
«Il n’y avait vraiment pas d’quoi fouetter un chat… «On dit tout bas que son grand-père était corsaire
Qu’il faisait la traite des noirs à Buenos Aires
Tico-Tico par correction a pris la même profession
Mais il a dû, pour son honneur, changer d’couleur
Et plein d’amour pour la maison de son grand-père
Il l’a toujours mais pour la rendre plus prospère
Il a seulement fait agrandir le numéro
C’est un vrai caballero, Tico-Tico
Lyrics translation
Tico-Tico this way, Tico-Tico this way
In all of Seville, we hear only that name
He's going through here, he's going through there.
How beautiful he is in his gala costume !
Dressed in a sombrero, thighs well flat
On his horse, he walks in small steps
From her glossy croc moustache of gomina
He makes every petticoat on the rambla dream.
It is said low that his grandfather was a privateer
That he was trading Blacks in Buenos Aires
And patati and patata, in the house he lived
All the gratin of the Alcala paraded there
Tico-Tico became the sole legatee
Of his magot, his horse and his lands
He can keep in front of everyone his sombrero
He's a real caballero, Tico-Toco.
Tico-Tico this way, Tico-Tico this way
But what exactly is this boy doing?
On the stroke of noon, he takes his malaga
To fill a whole day it is not enough
To be more precise, one day he was pressed
To explain to the police about his case
But a policeman said when he was released:
"There was really nothing to whip a cat..." it is said very low that his grandfather was a privateer
That he was trading Blacks in Buenos Aires
Tico-Tico by correction took the same profession
But he had to, for his honor, change color
And full of love for his grandfather's House
He still has it but to make it more prosperous
He only enlarged the number
He's a real caballero, Tico-Tico.