<img src="/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/cool.gif" alt="" />
*Everyone is sitting on wooden logs, around the campfire. We eat marshmallows, saussages and bread toasted on brands; Mea had began the tale, and people need some time to find ideas. So LaFille takes off a guitar, and begins to sing a song. She secretly hopes people will sing with her, (and louder than her) because she doesn’t sing very well, and she doesn’t know how to play guitar either. <img src="/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/shhh.gif" alt="" /> But she has goodwill, so she goes on...* <img src="/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/winkwink.gif" alt="" />
This song is about a being that hibernated and now wakes up, in spring time; I’ve put the original lyrics, in french, and a translation after:
Heureux d'un printemps
Qui me chauffe la couenne
Triste d'avoir manqué
Encore un hiver
Je peux pas faire autrement
Ça me fait de la peine
On vit rien qu'au printemps
Le printemps dure pas longtemps
Assis sur le bord de mon trou
Je me creuse la tête
Je pense au bonheur des gens
Je sais ben qu' ça va pas durer
Ça a l'air que ça prend des sous
Pour faire la fête
À qui appartient le beau temps
L'hiver l'été durant
L'été c'est tellement bon
Quand tu as la chance
D'avoir assez d'argent
Pour voyager sans t'inquiéter
Pour le fils d'un patron
C'est les vacances
Pour la fille du restaurant
C'est les sueurs pis les clients
On dit que l'hiver est blanc
Comme un nuage
Mais ça, évidemment,
Dans le chalet près du foyer
Dans le fond c'est salissant
Au prix où est-ce qu'il est, le chauffage
Y a pas pire moment de l'année
Quand t'es pris pour t'endetter
Faut que je m'en retourne dans mon trou
Creuser ma peine
J'ai vu le surintendant
Je peux rien te dire en attendant
Le jour où ce sera nous
Qui ferons la fête
Imaginez le printemps
Quand l'hiver sera vraiment blanc
<img src="/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smile.gif" alt="" />
Glad for a springtime
That warms my skin
Sad that I missed
Another winter
I can’t help it
It makes me sorrowful
We only live in spring
But pring doesn’t last long.
Sitting on the border of my hole,
I cogitate
I think about people’s bliss
I know it won’t last
It seems that it takes money
To celebrate
Who is the good time belonging to
Along winter as along summer
Summer is so good
When you’re lucky enough
To have enough money
To travel without worrying
For the son of a boss
It’s vacations
For the woman of the restaurant
It’s the sweat and the customers
They say winter is white
As is a cloud
But that is, of course
On a chalet, near the fireplace
Nevertheless, it’s messy
At the price heating is
There’s no worst time in the year
If you’re constrained to get into debt
I have to get back in my hole
To deepen my sorrow
I saw the intendant
But can’t tell you anything just now
The day when it’ll be us that celebrate
Imagine the springtime
When winter’ll be really white
<img src="/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smile.gif" alt="" />
*Now LaFille needs something to drink.* <img src="/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/tongue.gif" alt="" />
This was a typic folklorish Quebec song from the 70’s. It was written and sang by Paul Piché, and is very often sang around campfires, only accompanied by acoustic guitar; we often hear it as well as in any spring/summery party, played by a whole band.
