Four Sophomores (Les quatre bacheliers)

We were four hungry sophomores
Foursome troublesome
Paragons of collegial mores
Collegial mores.

To shower maidens with flowers
Foursome troublesome
We turned into part-time robbers
Part-time robbers.

The virtuously prone to fink
Foursome troublesome
Promptly sent us into the clink
Into the clink.

And four sorry sophomores went
Foursome troublesome
With their hands tied and their head bent
With their head bent.

Summoned were to the local jail
Foursome troublesome
Their parents for matters of bail
Matters of bail.

The first parent, second and third
Foursome troublesome
Red with rage bellowed and thundered
They all thundered.

As one voice they all admonished
Foursome troublesome
Said their honor had been tarnished
Had been tarnished.

As one voice they said “I’ve had it
Foursome troublesome
I want no son who’s a bandit”
Who’s a bandit.

The fourth of the concerned fathers
Foursome troublesome
Towered above all the others
All the others.

When he came to pick up his thief
Foursome troublesome
All knew his son had come to grief
Had come to grief.

But he did not roar nor bullied
Foursome troublesome
Nor said his name had been sullied
Had been sullied.

In the silence of the prison
Foursome troublesome
There arose a voice of reason
Voice of reason.

For his son he said he would vouch
Foursome troublesome
And gave him his tobacco pouch
Tobacco pouch.

I cannot say if he was right
Foursome troublesome
To so lightly dismiss his plight
Dismiss his plight.

But I know that one wayward kid
Foursome troublesome
Was lucky that his father did
His father did.

Is lucky to have as a dad
Foursome troublesome
A man who’ll always be a lad
Always a lad.

If the ones who’d have seen us jailed
Foursome troublesome
Believe that this father has failed
Father has failed.

It just goes to show that for them
Foursome troublesome
The gospel is wasted anthem
Wasted anthem.

It just goes to show that for them
Foursome troublesome
The gospel is wasted anthem
Wasted anthem.

© Didier Delahaye, 2003

Nous étions quatre bacheliers
Sans vergogne
La vraie crème des écoliers
Des écoliers.

Pour offrir aux filles des fleurs
Sans vergogne
Nous nous fîmes un peu voleurs
Un peu voleurs.

Les sycophantes du pays
Sans vergogne
Aux gendarmes nous ont trahis
Nous ont trahis.

Et l´on vit quatre bacheliers
Sans vergogne
Qu´on emmène, les mains liées
Les mains liées.

On fit venir à la prison
Sans vergogne
Les parents des mauvais garçons
Mauvais garçons.

Les trois premiers pères, les trois
Sans vergogne
En perdirent tout leur sang-froid
Tout leur sang-froid.

Comme un seul ils ont déclaré
Sans vergogne
Qu´on les avait déshonorée
Déshonorés.

Comme un seul ont dit ” C´est fini
Sans vergogne
Fils indigne, je te renie
Je te renie. “

Le quatrième des parents
Sans vergogne
C´était le plus gros, le plus grand
Le plus grand.

Quand il vint chercher son voleur
Sans vergogne
On s´attendait à un malheur
A un malheur.

Mais il n´a pas déclaré, non
Sans vergogne
Que l´on avait sali son nom
Sali son nom.

Dans le silence on l´entendit
Sans vergogne
Qui lui disait : ” Bonjour, petit
Bonjour petit. “

On le vit, on le croirait pas
Sans vergogne
Lui tendre sa blague à tabac
Blague à tabac.

Je ne sais pas s´il eut raison
Sans vergogne
D´agir d´une telle façon
Telle façon.

Mais je sais qu´un enfant perdu
Sans vergogne
A de la corde de pendu
De pendu,

A de la chance quand il a
Sans vergogne
Un père de ce tonneau-là
Ce tonneau-là.

Et si les chrétiens du pays
Sans vergogne
Jugent que cet homme a failli
Homme a failli.

Ça laisse à penser que, pour eux
Sans vergogne
L´Évangile, c´est de l´hébreu
C´est de l´hébreu.

Ça laisse à penser que, pour eux
Sans vergogne
L´Évangile, c´est de l´hébreu
C´est de l´hébreu.

Georges Brassens, 1966