Sur les toits de Paris la nuitLes Apaches* sont réunisEt dans l’éclat de lune qui blanchit les maisonsDes ombres se projettent en longIls préparent un coup vengeurLa lame de couteau sur le cœurEt demain on lira dans les journaux du soir
:«
Un homme a succombé dans le noir
»
Ah
! regardez-les passer quand ils glissent sans bruitFilant à travers les rues d’un quartier de Paris
Ils n’ont pas l’air de s’en faire et partent à la conquêteDes filles qu’ils font danser le soir au bal musetteEt sur les accords vibrants d’un vieil accordéonMurmurent les mots d’amour qui donnent le frissonMais ils finiront un jour reclus à la Roquette*Et regretterons le temps qui fait perdre la tête...
Au bord du Canal St MartinDans la froideur d’un p’tit matinUne étrange silhouette s’arrête un court instantEst-ce un marinier ou un passant
?L’onde calme soudain s’agiteUne forme se précipiteEt dans le rouge sang d’un fugace refletUn corps disparaît à tout jamais
Écoutez filles des faubourgsPrenez garde aux trop beaux discoursLes serments prononcés à la lueur d’un lampionSont là pour vous faire perdre raisonSi le cœur de Paris la nuitVous entraîne dans ses foliesDieu sait où les baisers de ces mauvais garçonsUn jour ou l’autre vous conduiront
?

English translation :
Apaches
On the rooftops of ParisThe Apaches meetAnd as the white light of the moon shines on the houses belowAnd the shadows lengthenThey are preparing their revengeKnife blade on their heartsAnd tomorrow we will read in the evening papers:“A man succumbed in the darkness”
Ah
! Watch them slip silently by
Criss crossing the streets of the Parisian quartierThey don’t seem too concerned and set out to win the heartsOf the girlsThey dance with in the evening at the bal musette*And to the
Moving vibrato of an old accordionThey whisper sweet nothings to make heart flutterBut they will end up one day in the RoquetteAnd will regret these heady moments
On the banks of the Saint Martin CanalIn the chill of the early hoursA strange silhouette halts just for a momentIs it a bargeman or a passer-by?Suddenly the calm waters are disturbedA shadow flees byAnd in the red blood of a fleeting reflexionA body disappears forever
Listen you faubourg girlsBeware of pretty storiesVows pronounced by the light of a Chinese lanternAre there to make you loose your headsIf the heart of Paris by nightLeads you into a follyLord knows where these bad boy’s kissesWill take you one day or another.

Quand au bout d'huit jours, le r'pos terminé,
On va r'prendre les tranchées,
Notre place est si utile
Que sans nous on prend la pile.
Mais c'est bien fini, on en a assez,
Personn' ne veut plus marcher,
Et le cœur bien gros, comm' dans un sanglot
On dit adieu aux civ'lots.
Même sans tambour, même sans trompette,
On s'en va là-haut en baissant la tête.
Adieu la vie, adieu l'amour,
Adieu toutes les femmes.
C'est bien fini, c'est pour toujours,
De cette guerre infâme.
C'est à Craonne, sur le plateau,
Qu'on doit laisser sa peau
Car nous sommes tous condamnés
Nous sommes les sacrifiés
!Huit jours de tranchées, huit jours de souffrance,
Pourtant on a l'espérance
Que ce soir viendra la r'lève
Que nous attendons sans trêve.
Soudain, dans la nuit et dans le silence,
On voit quelqu'un qui s'avance,
C'est un officier de chasseurs à pied,
Qui vient pour nous remplacer.
Doucement dans l'ombre, sous la pluie qui tombe
Les petits chasseurs vont chercher leurs tombes.

English translation :
Craonne Song
When at the end of a week's leaveWe go back to the trenches,
Our place there is so usefulThat without us we'd get a thrashing.But now it’s finished we've had enoughNobody wants to march anymore.And with hearts downcast with sobs,We're saying good-bye to the civilians,
Even without drum or trumpetWe're heading up there with lowered heads.
Good-bye to life, good-bye to love,
Good-bye to all you women,
It's finished, and foreverwe've had it for good with this awful war.It's in Craonne up on the plateau
That we're leaving our skins,'Cause we've all been sentenced to die.
We're the ones that they're sacrificing
A week in the trenches, a week of suffering,
And yet we still have hopeThat tonight the relief will come
That we keep waiting for.Suddenly in the silent night
We hear someone approachIt's an infantry officer
Who's coming to take over from us.
Quietly in the shadows as the rain fallsThe poor soldiers go in search of their graves
Those who’ve got the dough, they will come back'Cause it's for them that we're dying.
Now it’s finished, 'cause all us poor soldiers
Are going to go on strike.
It'll be your turn, fat cats,
To go up onto the plateau.
And if you want war,
Then pay for it with your own skins.
On the grand boulevards it's hard to watch
All the fat cats whooping it up
For them life is good
But for us it's not the same
Instead of hiding, all these shirkers
Would do better by going up to the trenches
To defend what they have, because we have nothing
All of us poor wretches
All our comrades are buried there
Defending the wealth of these gentlemen here

Top down for da money….For da money ya know me,…Whip lash on ya bunny, bunnyYa bunny, she owed me…I’m so fly stay fed, fed…Ya need job?Get work gimme head….See me break no bread, breadIt’s ‘cause i’m selfish what i said,..Aint nothin’ like a lose screw,In my crew,Hit em in a tutu, or high shoe,Pop it in a swim suit!Ok cute!Then hit em with da,Uh, uh, uh, and then scoot! I know you finna…

Black out!I’m finna get my bounce on..Finna get my bounce on…Breast out!T-shirt and a longjohnI’m finna get my bounce on!And it’s LOOSE!Ya know i got it!Shake cake and it’s real…(i said)Black out!I’m finna get my bounce on…

Caterpillar when ya saw me last,But-a-fly young stunna gettin better every hourglass..While you do it for the gram, I'ma do it for the band, big stand, and few 50 grand, Uh!Grown woman give a damn about what you do,Beat nuts but I'm nunt'n like a loose screw,No ballerina but you know I gotta tutu,Just make sure you on ya “Please” & ya “Thank you”s……young,young stunna,Da-dirty on da mic, get flirty, ya heard me….Grab out da bag for dis short thick cutie,Can ya give it to me?I think he wanna do me…I know he finna…

Black out!I’m finna get my bounce on..Finna get my bounce on…Breast out!T-shirt and a longjohnI’m finna get my bounce on!And it’s LOOSE!Ya know i got it!Shake cake and it’s real…(i said)Black out!I’m finna get my bounce on…(2X)

I went down to St. James Infirmary
To see my baby there
She was lying on a cold dark table
So sweet, so still, so fair

Let her go, let her go, god help her
Wherever she may be
They can search the wide world over
But they’ll never find a man like me
When she left, I went down to the river
Though the cold, dead trees
There I stood, in the murk and the darkness
There I sold my soul to thee