Aaron first introduced me to this French musician that I instantly fell in love with. I don't know a single thing about the French language nor have I ever had any desire to learn about the language, but his music is wonderful to me. I love the rhythm of his voice and the sound of his guitar together. I honestly have no song that I prefer to any other of his, so if you are interested in other language music I highly suggest you check out Georges Brassens. This song is titled "Les Copains D'abord" which means, "The Big Chill."
Lyrics in French:
Non, ce n'était pas le radeau
De la Méduse, ce bateau
Qu'on se le dise au fond des ports
Dise au fond des ports
Il naviguait en pèr' peinard
Sur la grand-mare des canards
Et s'app'lait les Copains d'abord
Les Copains d'abord
Ses fluctuat nec mergitur
C'était pas d'la litterature
N'en déplaise aux jeteurs de sort
Aux jeteurs de sort
Son capitaine et ses mat'lots
N'étaient pas des enfants d'salauds
Mais des amis franco de port
Des copains d'abord
C'étaient pas des amis de luxe
Des petits Castor et Pollux
Des gens de Sodome et Gomorrhe
Sodome et Gomorrhe
C'étaient pas des amis choisis
Par Montaigne et La Boetie
Sur le ventre ils se tapaient fort
Les copains d'abord
C'étaient pas des anges non plus
L'Évangile, ils l'avaient pas lu
Mais ils s'aimaient tout's voil's dehors
Tout's voil's dehors
Jean, Pierre, Paul et compagnie
C'était leur seule litanie
Leur Credo, leur Confiteor
Aux copains d'abord
Au moindre coup de Trafalgar
C'est l'amitié qui prenait l'quart
C'est elle qui leur montrait le nord
Leur montrait le nord
Et quand ils étaient en détresse
Qu'leurs bras lancaient des S.O.S.
On aurait dit les sémaphores
Les copains d'abord
Au rendez-vous des bons copains
Y avait pas souvent de lapins
Quand l'un d'entre eux manquait a bord
C'est qu'il était mort
Oui, mais jamais, au grand jamais
Son trou dans l'eau n'se refermait
Cent ans après, coquin de sort
Il manquait encore
Des bateaux j'en ai pris beaucoup
Mais le seul qu'ait tenu le coup
Qui n'ai jamais viré de bord
Mais viré de bord
Naviguait en père peinard
Sur la grand-mare des canards
Et s'app'lait les Copains d'abord
Les Copains d'abord
Lyrics translated with Google translator:
No, it was not the raft
Of the Medusa, this boat
Spread the word to the bottom ports
Say at the bottom ports
He sailed in Dad 'cushy
On the main pond ducks
S'app'lait and the Big Chill
The Big Chill
Its fluctuat nec mergitur
It was not literature
No offense to the caster
The caster
Her captain and mat'lots
Were not children of bastards
But friends of carriage
The Big Chill
They were not friends of luxury
Small Castor and Pollux
People of Sodom and Gomorrah
Sodom and Gomorrah
They were not friends selected
By Montaigne and La Boetie
On the stomach they banged hard
The Big Chill
They were not angels either
The Gospel, they had not read
But they all loved each other's Voil's outside
Everything's Voil's outside
John, Peter, Paul and Co.
It was their only mantra
Their creed, their Confiteor
The Big Chill
At the slightest touch of Trafalgar
It's the friendship that took the quart
It was she who showed them the north
Showed them the north
And when they were in distress
Qu'leurs throwing arm S.O.S.
It looked like semaphores
The Big Chill
The appointment of good friends
Was not often rabbits
When one of them was missing on board
That he was dead
Yes, but never, ever
Its hole in the water n'se closed
One hundred years later, coquin de sort
It still lacked
Ships I have taken many
But the only one ever held up
Who have never tacked
But tacked
Father in cushy sailing
On the main pond ducks
S'app'lait and the Big Chill
The Big Chill
Of the Medusa, this boat
Spread the word to the bottom ports
Say at the bottom ports
He sailed in Dad 'cushy
On the main pond ducks
S'app'lait and the Big Chill
The Big Chill
Its fluctuat nec mergitur
It was not literature
No offense to the caster
The caster
Her captain and mat'lots
Were not children of bastards
But friends of carriage
The Big Chill
They were not friends of luxury
Small Castor and Pollux
People of Sodom and Gomorrah
Sodom and Gomorrah
They were not friends selected
By Montaigne and La Boetie
On the stomach they banged hard
The Big Chill
They were not angels either
The Gospel, they had not read
But they all loved each other's Voil's outside
Everything's Voil's outside
John, Peter, Paul and Co.
It was their only mantra
Their creed, their Confiteor
The Big Chill
At the slightest touch of Trafalgar
It's the friendship that took the quart
It was she who showed them the north
Showed them the north
And when they were in distress
Qu'leurs throwing arm S.O.S.
It looked like semaphores
The Big Chill
The appointment of good friends
Was not often rabbits
When one of them was missing on board
That he was dead
Yes, but never, ever
Its hole in the water n'se closed
One hundred years later, coquin de sort
It still lacked
Ships I have taken many
But the only one ever held up
Who have never tacked
But tacked
Father in cushy sailing
On the main pond ducks
S'app'lait and the Big Chill
The Big Chill
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