248.
Edith Piaf
Kids from THE BELL
Lyrics: Vincent Scotto - Decay Music: Accordion Medinger, 1935
From coast to coast this week
On the boulevards in the suburbs
We see by dragging Hundreds
Their dirty gaiters and their loves shirts
In ten days
Under the light of the streetlamps
Taking tunes Pompadour
These are our beautiful Ferronnière
These are our dolls, our horns, our puppets in the night Listen
They sing this refrain:
We're the kids, the kids of the bell
Tramps who go without a dime in his pocket
We are the clueless, clueless purees
About loved one evening n 'Wherever We
yet not requiring
Heart
But nobody wants
Well too bad for them
What it cares
Who cares! No snagging
There is no love
The kids of the bell!
But they do not have toilets
it takes to neighborhoods nobs
is not the Galeries Lafayette
they will do their nightly grind
Along Canal Saint-Martin
In Sebastopol, the chapel
It is still quite dandy
For the gentleman who calls you
From popular item is not beautiful toy
Y no dolls
For silk bazaars at thirty sous
We're the kids, the kids of the bum
bell go off without a dime in his pocket
We are the clueless, clueless purees
About loved one evening anywhere Like our keepsakes
We are not varnished it will never
On the Riviera
What it cares
Who cares! When we
money mowing
We'll do four days
Yonder in the Tower
The kids of the bell
They sold all their caresses
They were paid somehow
Then one day, nothing in the box
will plug into the channel without
And like a horse The
pity the people on the street
They are taken to the hospital
The crowd said "this is a crane"
And this is how our dolls, puppets
When we have a sou
S ' will in all Pantin
We're the kids, the kids of the bell that
Tramps go without friends or relatives,
We are the clueless, clueless purees
Who go sleep dans l'horrible trou
Derrière note convoi
Jamais l'on ne voit
Ni fleurs ni couronnes
Pas même une personne
Qu'est que ça fout
On s'en fout!
Quand la mort nous fauche
C'est note plus beau jour
Cloches, sonnez pour
Les mômes de la cloche! ...
Les mômes de la cloche (Homeless girl)
All week long
on the boulevards, in the suburbs
see how they dragged hundreds,
their dirty socks, and their passion
shirts in a ten years old.
under the light of lanterns,
Imitating the Marquise de Pompadour
This is our beautiful beauty,
This is our dolls, our parsley, our puppets.
Listen to the night
They sing this refrain:
"That we are girls, are we Tramp,
beggars, who go without a penny,
This is pathetic, we, the poor poor,
likes to anywhere in the evenings.
But we
lowbrow heart,
But nobody it does not want,
Well, well, so much the worse for them.
Whatever,
Yes spit!
None of us is not tied
No love,
We will always homeless girls! "
But because they do not have luxury bathrooms,
are needed for high-income areas,
Not at Galeries Lafayette
They make their rabotenka every night,
along the canal Saint-Martin,
at Sevastopol Boulevard, in the quarter, La Chapelle
They are always dressed up
enough for a gentleman who will call you.
Cheap toys - it's You do not elegant dolls,
No silk pupae
the bazaars for thirty sous.
"That we are girls, are we Tramp,
beggars, who go without a penny,
That we are miserable, poor beggars,
likes to anywhere in the evenings.
Just like our shoes,
We are not varnished.
We will never go
on the Riviera.
Whatever was,
Yes spit!
When we have a lack of money,
We are serving a four-day
There, in the Tower.
Homeless girl! "
They sold all their affection,
to pay for them with sin in half,
Then one day, when the pocket is empty,
They'll throw off a bridge into the canal,
And as horses,
To whom do not feel pity
People on the street
They take away to the hospital.
crowd said: "It's just a prostitute"
And now, as our dolls, our puppets
When they do not have enough coins,
go to the cemetery in Pantai.
"That we are girls, are we Tramp,
beggars who go without friends, without relatives,
This is pathetic, we, the poor poor,
go on to rest in a terrible hole.
Over Our funeral procession,
never see
No flowers, no wreaths,
Not a single person
Whatever,
Yes spit!
When death takes us,
This our most beautiful day.
Bells, call
homeless girls! ...
ferronnière - feronerka (bandage on his forehead with a precious stone)
guignol - guignol, parsley, clown, Doll
paumé - simple. wretched, miserable, translation and definition. poor man, poor man
purée - translation and definition. lack of money, poverty
être dans la purée translation and definition. - To sit without a penny
3) translation and definition. poor man, beggar
turbin - translation and definition. work; rabotenka, halturka
gandin - a dandy, fop
article de bazar - cheap
ribouis - simple. mouth. old shoe
faucher - mow, mow
Pantin - cemetery in a poor Paris suburb
Эдит, 1932 год
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