This time I translate a funny one.
Renaud - Trois Matelots (Three Sailors)We were three young sailors, three handsome sea men, tall and strong,
Boarded one day in Toulon without uniform nor stripe, on the aircraft carrier Clémenceau (famous French warship).
We were three young soldiers who weren't too fond of war either,
But we were willing to get shaved in exchange of a trip around the world,
On a pretty iron boat.
The first sailor was Breton all the way but he was dumb like broom stick,
Like a Sunday breakfast,
Like a news article in the Figaro (famous French political newspaper).
He had grown up by the water but he never drank too much of it.
At fifteen he had fled La Rochelle (Poitou-Charentes) for a young madam and moved to the rampart of Saint-Malo.
(Saint-Malo is in Brittany, so he is only Breton for his girl, he's not a real Breton!).
We saw him proud on Rue de la Soif (litterally "Street of Thirst", in French, designates the general area to gather to drink),
Foaming at all the gambling dens until dawn came,
When he rode from port to starboard and washed up in the brook.
He wanted to leave on ship to get a taste of the sirocco (name of a very hot wind given in the Mediterranean),
And thought wisely that the ocean made you smarter,
And for his I.Q. much was to be done.
God how beautiful,
The story of the three sailors,
Almost as beautiful,
As the deck of the Clémenceau!The second sailor was Corsican all over his skin,
He was mean like a squall, vicious as a surge,
Like an article by Jean Cau (French journalist).
He had grown up nearby the water but only drank it in Pernod (aniseed-flavored liquor).
At fifteen he got soaked by a légionaire near the citadel of Ajaccio.
He turned into a real as*hole, tattooed all his muscles,
Between his mom's first name; the wolfs, the snakes, the panthers,
And the Christ in the middle of the back.
He wanted to go on a ship so as to never live like a calf,
And to spread his hatred of this duck*ng human race full of badgers and rats.
God how long,
Is the story of three sailors,
Nearly as long,
As the deck of the Clémenceau!The last sailor, was me, I was from Paris,
I was good like lettuce, smart like a hyena, solid like fruit pudding.
I grew up very far from the water and drank it as much as a sparrow.
At fifteen I left Paname (slang for Paris) to shoo off a woman,
Who wanted to cradle in my heart.
I knocked around like a hobo, I met ecologists,
Who told me: go see the whales that live in the far away waters,
You will see that this world is a beauty.
I wanted to leave on a ship to see the earth from a height,
To pass the Cape Horn both ways and travel from Recouvrance (Brest, France) to the brothels of Macao.
God how hard,
The story of the Three sailors is,
Almost as hard,
As the deck of the Clémenceau!The first sailor who was idiotic as a flag,
Ended up covered in stripes, sardine on his vest,
And a pile of crap under his cap.
The second sailor who was mean as a raven,
Ended up in cabinet at the marine ministry,
A tiny boss behind a desk.
The last of the sailors was thrown off his ship,
Because he gave his pompon to a Ninon too pretty,
In return for a warm and sweet kiss.
If you kid is an as*hole, a real dumbas*, a headful of water,
Get him in the military and he will make a career,
On a ship, at a desk.
But if he's good, if he's handsome, even if a little alcoholic,
Let him travel around the world alone on an iron ship,
But not on the Clémenceau.
Simple soldier, brave sailor, please don't take it too personally,
This song I only sung for the officers hidden behind,
For the cowards who read the Figaro.
