Tico Tico - Arielle Dombasle

Tico-Tico par-ci, TicoTico par-l

Dans tout Seville, on n’entend plus que ce nom l Il passe par ici, il va passer par l Comme il est beau dans son costume de gala!

Coiffe d’un sombrero, les cuisses bien plat

Sur son cheval, il se promene petits pas

Da sa moustache en croc lustree de gomina

Il fait rever tous les jupons de la rambla.

On dit tout bas que son grand-pere etait corsaire

Qu’il faisait la traite des noirs Buenos Aires

Et patati et patata, dans la maison qu’il habita

Tout le gratin de l’Alcala y defila

Tico-Tico devint l’unique legataire

De son magot, de son cheval et de ses terres

Il peut garder devant chacun son sombrero

C’est un vrai Caballero, Tico-Toco.

Tico-Tico par-ci, Tico par-l

Mais que fait-il exactement ce garcon-l

Sur le coup de midi, il prend son malaga

Pour remplir toute une journee ca n’suffit pas…

Pour etre plus precis, un jour on le pressa

De s’expliquer la police sur son cas

Mais un gendarme dit quand on le relacha:

«Il n’y avait vraiment pas d’quoi fouetter un chat…»

On dit tout bas que son grand-pere etait corsaire

Qu’il faisait la traite des noirs Buenos Aires

Tico-Tico par correction a pris la meme profession

Mais il a du, pour son honneur, changer d’couleur

Et plein d’amour pour la maison de son grand-pere

Il l’a toujours mais pour la rendre plus prospere

Il a seulement fait agrandir le numero

C’est un vrai Caballero, Tico-Tico

Tico-Tico here, TicoTico here

In all Seville, you only hear this name l He passes by here, he will pass by l How handsome he is in his gala costume!

Wearing a sombrero, flat thighs

On his horse he takes small steps

From his hairbrushed croc mustache

It makes all the petticoats of the rambla dream.

It is said quietly that his grandfather was a corsair

That he was trafficking in blacks Buenos Aires

And patati and patata, in the house he lived in

All the gratin of Alcala y defiled

Tico-Tico became the sole legatee

Of his hoard, his horse and his land

He can keep his sombrero in front of everyone

He's a real Caballero, Tico-Toco.

Tico-Tico over here, Tico over there

But what exactly is this boy doing?

At the stroke of noon, he takes his malaga

To fill a whole day is not enough...

To be more precise, one day he was pressed

To explain the police on his case

But a constable said when he was released:

"There really was nothing to whip a cat..."

It is said quietly that his grandfather was a corsair

That he was trafficking in blacks Buenos Aires

Tico-Tico by correction took the same profession

But he had to, for his honor, change color

And full of love for his grandfather's house

He still has it but to make it more prosperous

He only enlarged the number

He's a real Caballero, Tico-Tico