John - Yves Duteil

John tait amoureux, a se voyait un peu

Il avait un air si bizarre et veillait si tard

Il buvait tant de vin que souvent, le matin

On pouvait l’entendre de l’tang jusqu’au moulin

La fille aux longues mains ne disait jamais rien

Et le pauvre John pensait bien

Qu' veiller dehors jusqu’au lever du jour

Il en crverait ou bien de froid ou bien d’amour

John avait un bguin, a se voyait un brin

Quand il tapait sur sa poitrine en buvant du gin

Il avait l’oeil hagard, buvait toujours part

Poussait des hurlements qui faisaient fuir le vent

Mais la fille aux longues mains ne disait jamais rien

Et le pauvre John pensait bien

Qu' veiller dehors jusqu’au lever du jour

Il en crverait ou bien de froid ou bien d’amour

John tait amoureux, il en a fait l’aveu

Depuis, de la rivire au port, on en rit encore

Le soir, au coin du feu, on coute les vieux

Raconter l’histoire de John l’amoureux

Il aimait la statue d’une belle inconnue

Morte cent ans auparavant dans un ouragan

Il allait tous les jours lui dire son amour

Et noyait sa peine dans un verre son retour

La fille aux longues mains ne dirait jamais rien

Et le pauvre John savait bien

Que dans la statue tait son coeur et qu’un jour

Il en crverait ou bien de froid ou bien d’amour

Que dans la statue tait son coeur et qu’un jour

Il en crverait ou bien de froid ou bien d’amour

Il en crverait ou bien de froid ou bien d’amour

John was in love, saw himself a little

He looked so weird and stayed up so late

He drank so much wine that often in the morning

You could hear it from the pond to the mill

The girl with the long hands never said anything

And poor John thought well

Than watch out till daybreak

He would die either of cold or of love

John had a crush, saw himself a bit

When he tapped his chest while drinking gin

He was haggard-eyed, always drinking from

Raised howls that drove the wind away

But the girl with the long hands never said anything

And poor John thought well

Than watch out till daybreak

He would die either of cold or of love

John was in love, he admitted it

Since then, from the river to the port, we still laugh about it

In the evening, by the fire, we listen to the old

Tell the story of John the Lover

He liked the statue of a beautiful stranger

Died a hundred years ago in a hurricane

He went everyday to tell her his love

And drowned his pain in a glass his return

The girl with the long hands would never say anything

And poor John knew well

That in the statue was his heart and that one day

He would die either of cold or of love

That in the statue was his heart and that one day

He would die either of cold or of love

He would die either of cold or of love