Song. 1880. Sung in Napolitan. Dancing & joyful. Male voice, piano, Song. 1880. Sung in Napolitan. Dancing & joyful. Male voice, piano, mandolin, acoustic guitar, flutes & tambourin.歌词
Napoletano:Aieressera, oì nanninè, me ne sagliette, tu saie addò tu saie addò Addò 'stu core 'ngrato cchiù dispietto farme nun pò! Addò lo fuoco coce, ma si fuie Te lassa sta! E nun te corre appriesso, nun te struie, 'ncielo a guardà!... Jammo, jammo 'ncoppa, jammo jà, Funiculì, funiculà! Né... jammo da la terra a la montagna! no passo nc'è! Se vede Francia, Proceta e la Spagna... Io veco a tte! Tirato co la fune, ditto 'nfatto, 'ncielo se va.. Se va comm' 'à lu viento a l'intrasatto, guè, saglie sà! Jammo, jammo 'ncoppa, jammo jà, Funiculì, funiculà! Se n' 'è sagliuta, oì né, se n' 'è sagliuta la capa già! È gghiuta, pò è turnata, pò è venuta... Sta sempe ccà! La capa vota, vota, attuorno, attuorno, Attuorno a tte! Sto core canta sempe Nu taluorno Sposammo, oì né! Jammo, jammo 'ncoppa, jammo jà, Funiculì, funiculà!
Français:Hier soir, Annette, je suis monté Devine où ? Où ce cœur ingrat ne peut plus m'embêter! Là où le feu brûle, mais si tu te sauves Il te laisse tranquille Et ne te poursuit pas, ni ne se lasse de contempler le ciel! Allons, allons, au sommet allons-y ! Allons, allons, au sommet allons-y ! Funiculi, funiculè, funiculi, funiculaire ! Allons au sommet, funiculì, funiculaire ! Allons de la terre à la montagne, il n'y a qu'un pas. On voit la France, Procida et l'Espagne, moi je te vois toi! Avec le funiculaire, aussitôt dit aussitôt fait, nous sommes montés au ciel... Allons comme le vent, montons, montons! Allons, allons, au sommet allons-y ! Allons, allons, au sommet allons-y ! Funiculi, funiculè, funiculi, funiculaire! Allons au sommet, funiculì, funiculaire! Si on ne l'a pas perdue, Annette, si on n'a pas encore perdu la tête, Elle y est allée, a tourné, en est revenue, et elle est toujours là! La tête tourne, tourne autour, autour de toi ! Et mon cœur chante toujours: un jour Annette épouse-moi! Allons, allons, au sommet allons-y ! Allons, allons, au sommet allons-y ! Funiculi, funiculè, funiculi, funiculaire! Allons au sommet, funiculì, funiculaire !
English: I climbed up high this evening, oh, Nanetta,Do you know where? Do you know where?Where this ungrateful heartNo longer pains me! No longer pains me!Where fire burns, but if you run away,It lets you be, it lets you be!It doesn't follow after or torment youJust with a look, just with a look. Let's go, let's go! To the top we'll go!Let's go, let's go! To the top we'll go!Funiculi, funicula, funiculi, funicula!To the top we'll go, funiculi, funicula!Let's go from here below up to the mountain,A step away! A step away!You can see France, Procida, and Spain,And I see you! And I see you!You rise, pulled by a cable, quick as a wink,Into the sky! Into the sky!We'll rise up like a whirlwind all of a suddenKnows how to do! Knows how to do! Let's go, let's go! To the top we'll go!Let's go, let's go! To the top we'll go!Funiculi, funicula, funiculi, funicula!To the top we'll go, funiculi, funicula!The car has climbed up high, see, climbed up high now,Right to the top! Right to the top!It went, and turned around, and came back down,And now it's stopped! And now it's stopped!The top is turning round, and round, and round,Around yourself! Around yourself!My heart is singing the same refrain:We should be wed! We should be wed!Let's go, let's go! To the top we'll go!Let's go, let's go! To the top we'll go!Funiculi, funicula, funiculi, funicula!To the top we'll go, funiculi, funicula! p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Arial; color: #000000} p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; color: #000000; min-height: 14.0px} p.p3 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; color: #000000} span.s1 {font-kerning: none} span.s2 {font: 12.0px Arial; font-kerning: none}
Napolitan Song. 1919. Sung in Italian. Nostalgic & sentimental. Male Napolitan Song. 1919. Sung in Italian. Nostalgic & sentimental. Male voice, acoustic guitar, mandolins & double-bass.歌词
Italiano: Sul mare luccica l’astro d’argento. Placida è l’onda, prospero è il vento. Sul mare luccica l’astro d’argento. Placida è l’onda, prospero è il vento. Venite all’agile barchetta mia, Santa Lucia! Santa Lucia! Venite all’agile barchetta mia, Santa Lucia! Santa Lucia!
Con questo zeffiro, così soave, Oh, com’è bello star sulla nave! Con questo zeffiro, così soave, Oh, com’è bello star sulla nave! Su passeggeri, venite via! Santa Lucia! Santa Lucia! Su passeggeri, venite via! Santa Lucia! Santa Lucia!
In fra le tende, bandir la cena In una sera così serena, In fra le tende, bandir la cena In una sera così serena, Chi non dimanda, chi non desia. Santa Lucia! Santa Lucia! Chi non dimanda, chi non desia. Santa Lucia! Santa Lucia!
Mare sì placida, vento sì caro, Scordar fa i triboli al marinaro, Mare sì placido, vento sì caro, Scordar fa i triboli al marinaro, E va gridando con allegria, Santa Lucia! Santa Lucia! E va gridando con allegria, Santa Lucia! Santa Lucia!
O dolce Napoli, o suol beato, Ove sorridere volle il creato, O dolce Napoli, o suol beato, Ove sorridere volle il creato, Tu sei l'impero dell’armonia, Santa Lucia! Santa Lucia! Tu sei l'impero dell’armonia, Santa Lucia! Santa Lucia!
Or che tardate? Bella è la sera. Spira un’auretta fresca e leggera. Or che tardate? Bella è la sera. Spira un’auretta fresca e leggera. Venite all’agile barchetta mia, Santa Lucia! Santa —Lucia! Venite all’agile barchetta mia, Santa Lucia! Santa Lucia!
Français: Sur l’onde claire, charmant mystère La lune éclaire et c’est la nuit Voici la brise, douceur exquise Ma voile grise au loin s’enfuit Venez fidèle, dans ma nacelle Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia
Adieu beau rêve, le vent s’élève Loin de la grève ma barque fuit Dans mon village, le cher rivage Dans un nuage est englouti Ô ma patronne, pour moi sois bonne Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia
Soudain sur terre, un phare éclaire Ah! C’est ma mère qui me conduit Allons, courage! Plus de naufrage Bravons l’orage! L’espoir revit Guidez ma voile vers cette étoile Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia
English: On the sea glitters the silver star Gentle the waves, favorable the winds. On the sea glitters the silver star Gentle the waves, favorable the winds. Come into my nimble little boat, Saint Lucy! Saint Lucy! Come into my nimble little boat, Saint Lucy! Saint Lucy!
With this breeze, so gentle, Oh, how beautiful to be on the ship! With this breeze, so gentle, Oh, how beautiful to be on the ship! Come aboard passengers, come on! Saint Lucy! Saint Lucy! Come aboard passengers, come on! Saint Lucy! Saint Lucy!
Inside the tents, putting aside supper On such a quiet evening, Inside the tents, putting aside supper On such a quiet evening, Who wouldn't demand, who wouldn't desire? Saint Lucy! Saint Lucy! Who wouldn't demand, who wouldn't desire? Saint Lucy! Saint Lucy!
Sea so calm, the wind so dear, Forget what makes trouble for the sailor, Sea so calm, the wind so dear, Forget what makes trouble for the sailor, And go shout with merriment, Saint Lucy! Saint Lucy! And go shout with merriment, Saint Lucy! Saint Lucy!
O sweet Naples, O blessed soil, Where to smile desired its creation, O sweet Naples, upon blessed soil, Where to smile desired its creation, You are the kingdom of harmony, Saint Lucy! Saint Lucy! You are the kingdom of harmony, Saint Lucy! Saint Lucy!
Now to linger? The evening is beautiful. A little breeze blows fresh and light. Now to linger? The evening is beautiful. A little breeze blows fresh and light. Come into my nimble little boat, Saint Lucy! Saint Lucy! Come into my nimble little boat, Saint Lucy! Saint Lucy!
Italiano: Su, finiscila coi baci, Bel moruccio birichin, E non vedi tu la luna Che dal ciel fa capolin?E se pur la luna spia Noi lasciamola guardar, Anche il pallido suo raggio Ci consiglia a seguitar.Ma poi, chissá cosa dirà? E via, dirà, cosa dirà, dirà, dirà Ciribiribin, Ciribiribin, Ciríbiribin.Ciribiribin Che bel faccin Che sguardo dolce Ed assassin.Ciribiribin, Che bel nasin, Che bei dentin, Che bel bocchin.Ciribiribin, Che bel nasin, Che bei dentin, Che bel bocchin.Ciribiribin, Ciribiribin, Ciribiribin, Che bel bocchin.Ciribiribin, Che bel nasin, Che bei dentin, Che bel bocchin.Ciribiribin, Ciribiribin, Ciribiribin, Che bel faccin!
English: When the moon is brightly shiningOn a lovely night like thisEv'ry maiden's heart is pinningFor a sweetheart's tender kiss'Tis the song of sweet romancingFilling hearts with love's desire'Tis a melody entrancingSetting each maiden's heart a fireNow from a far hear the quitarOh, hear it played sweet Serenade,A - ha, A - haCiribiribin, Ciribiribin, Ciribiribin.(Ciribiribin, Ciribiribin, Ciribiribin.)Ciribiribin I love you andDo cherish you with all my heartCiribiribin, I hope and prayEach day that we will never partCiribiribin If you would onlySay your love will never dieCiribiribin, Ciribiribin,(Ciribiribin, Ciribiribin)Ciribiribin I love you so
Français: Délaissant sa jeune femme Qui pousse un profond soupir Le mari vieux et sans flamme Dans sa chambre va dormir Alors se sentant renaître Et bravant le Bartolo Elle court à la fenêtre Écouter son Roméo. Dans son refrain le troubadour Redit joyeux ce mot d'amour Toujours Toujours Ciribiribin Ciribiribin Ciribiribin
Ciribiribin, vite ouvre–moi, Je veux chanter auprès de toi Ciribiribin, ce mot n'est rien Cependant tu le comprends bien Ciribiribin, je veux monter Te prendre afin de me griser Ciribiribin Ciribiribin Ciribiribin, un doux baiser
N'étant pas du tout rebelle Pour mieux l'entendre chanter Sa charmante ritournelle Elle dit: tu peux monter Puisque mon époux me sèvre De ce refrain si charmant Je l'apprendrai sur ta lèvre En t'enlaçant tendrement Bientôt après au troubadour Elle disait ce mot d'amour Toujours Toujours Ciribiribin Ciribiribin Ciribiribin
Ciribiribin, cet air me plaît Reprenons le dernier couplet Ciribiribin, mon mari dort Mon chéri répétons encore Ciribiribin, ô mon amant Viens me refaire gentiment Ciribiribin Ciribiribin Ciribiribin, un doux serment.
Tout à coup l'époux s'éveille En entendant le duo Sa fureur est sans pareille Pourtant il ne souffle mot Car il n'empêchera guère Les deux amants de chanter Et ne pouvant rien y faire Il murmure dépité: Entre les bras du troubadour Elle a chanté ce mot d'amour Toujours Toujours Ciribiribin Ciribiribin Ciribiribin
Ciribiribin, l'air menaçant La lune me montre un croissant Ciribiribin, quand il ne peut Chanter ce refrain amoureux Ciribiribin, le vieux mari Par son épouse, est chaque nuit Ciribiribin Ciribiribin Ciribiribin, toujours punic
Song. Sung in Italian.1944. Protest song. Determined & exhilarating. Song. Sung in Italian.1944. Protest song. Determined & exhilarating. Male choir & acoustic guitar. Constant accelaration.歌词
Italiano :Una mattina mi sono alzatoO bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao Una mattina mi sono alzato E ho trovato l'invasor
O partigiano portami via O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao O partigiano portami via Ché mi sento di morir
E se io muoio da partigiano O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao E se muoio da partigiano Tu mi devi seppellir
E seppellire lassù in montagna O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao E seppellire lassù in montagna Sotto l'ombra di un bel fior
Tutte le genti che passeranno O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao E le genti che passeranno Mi diranno: che bel fior
E quest' è il fiore del partigiano O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao Quest'è il fiore del partigiano Morto per la libertà.
Français :Un matin, je me suis réveillé Ô ma belle au revoir (x3) Au revoir, au revoir Un matin, je me suis réveillé Et j'ai trouvé l'envahisseur
Ô ! partisan emportes-moi Ô ma belle au revoir (x3) Au revoir, au revoir Ô ! Partisan emporte-moi Je me sens prêt à mourir.
Et si je meurs en partisan Ô ma belle au revoir (x3) Au revoir, au revoir Et si je meurs en partisan Tu devras m'enterrer.
Tu devras m'enterrer là-haut sur la montagne Ô ma belle au revoir (x3) Ciao, ciao Au revoir, au revoir Tu devras m'enterrer la haut sur la montagne A l'ombre d'une belle fleur.
Tous les gens qui passeront Ô ma belle au revoir (x3) Au revoir, au revoir Et les gens qui passeront Me diront «quelle belle fleur»
Et c'est la fleur du partisan Ô ma belle au revoir (x3) Au revoir, au revoir C'est la fleur du partisan Mort pour la liberté. Anglais:One morning I awakened, Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao! (Goodbye beautiful) One morning I awakened And I found the invader.
Oh partisan carry me away, Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao Oh partisan carry me away Because I feel death approaching.
And if I die as a partisan, Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao And if I die as a partisan Then you must bury me.
Bury me up in the mountain, Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao Bury me up in the mountain Under the shade of a beautiful flower.
And all those who shall pass, Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao And all those who shall pass Will tell me "what a beautiful flower."
This is the flower of the partisan, Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao This is the flower of the partisan Who died for freedom
Italiano: Alla mattina appena alzata O bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao, ciao, ciao Alla mattina appena alzata In risaia mi tocca andar.
E fra gli insetti e le zanzare O bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciao E fra gli insetti e le zanzare Un dur lavoro mi tocca far.
Il capo in piedi col suo bastone O bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciao Il capo in piedi col suo bastone E noi curve a lavorar.
O mamma mia o che tormento O bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciao O mamma mia o che tormento Lo t'invoco ogni doman.
Ed ogni ora che qui passiamo O bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciao Ed ogni ora che qui passiamo Noi perdiam la gioventù.
Ma verrà un giorno che tutte quante O bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciao Ma verrà un giorno che tutte quante Lavoreremo in libertà.
Français: Le matin, à peine levéeO bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciaoLe matin, à peine levéeÀ la rizière je dois allerEt entre les insectes et les moustiquesO bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciaoEt entre les insectes et les moustiquesUn dur labeur je dois faireLe chef debout avec son bâtonO bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciaoLe chef debout avec son bâtonEt nous courbées à travaillerO Bonne mère quel tourmentO bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciaoO Bonne mère quel tourmentJe t'invoque chaque jourEt toutes les heures que nous passons iciO bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciaoEt toutes les heures que nous passons iciNous perdons notre jeunesseMais un jour viendra que toutes autant que nous sommesO bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciaoMais un jour viendra que toutes autant que nous sommesNous travaillerons en liberté.
Anglais: In the morning I got up Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao (Goodbye beautiful) In the morning I got up To the paddy rice fields, I have to go.
And between insects and mosquitoes Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao And between insects and mosquitoes A hard work I have to work.
The boss is standing with his cane Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao The boss is standing with his cane And we work with our backs curved.
Oh my god, what a torment Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao Oh my god, what a torment As I call you every morning.
And every hour that we pass here Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao And every hour that we pass here We lose our youth.
But the day will come when us all Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao But the day will come when us all Will work in freedom.
Fenesta vascia 'e padrona crudele, Quanta suspire mm'haje fatto jettare!... Mm'arde stu core, comm'a na cannela, Bella, quanno te sento annommenare! Oje piglia la 'sperienza de la neve! La neve? Fredda e se fa maniare... E tu comme si' tanta aspra e crudele?! Muorto mme vide e nun mme vu? ' ajutare!?...
Vorr? A addeventare no picciuotto, Co na langella a ghire vennenn'acqua, Pe' mme ne j? Da chisti palazzuotte: Belli ffemmene meje, ah! Chi v? ' acqua... Se vota na nennella da ll? 'ncoppa: Chi? 'sto ninno ca va vennenn'acqua? E io responno, co parole accorte: So' lacreme d'ammore e non? Acqua!...
Finestra bassa di una padrona crudele, quanti sospiri mi hai fatto buttare. Mi arde questo cuore, come una candela, bella quando ti sento nominare.
Prendi l'esperienza della neve. La neve e' fredda e si fa toccare. E tu come sei tanto aspra e crudele? Mi vedi morto e non mi vuoi aiutare?
Vorrei diventare un bambino, con una lancella andare e vendere acqua, per andarmene via da questi palazzotti. Belle donne mie, ah. Chi vuole acqua.
Si gira una ragazza da li sopra: "Chi e' questo ragazzo che vende acqua?" E io rispondo, con parole misurate: "Sono lacrime d'amore e non e' acqua".
Français
Fenêtre basse d’une maîtresse cruelle, que de soupirs tu m’as fait gaspiller… mon cœur brûle comme une bougie, ma belle, si j’entends prononcer ton nom ! Prends donc exemple sur la neige : elle est froide, mais elle se laisse caresser, et avec moi, tu es si âpre et cruelle, que tu me vois mourir et tu ne veux pas m’aider ?
Je voudrais devenir un vendeur ambulant, qui vend l’eau avec sa carafe, pour crier d’une maison à l’autre : “Mes belles femmes, qui veut de l’eau ?” Et une fille me voit de son balcon et me dit : “Qui est ce garçon qui vend de l’eau ?” et je lui répondrais avec des mots attristés : “Ce sont des larmes d’amour, ce n’est pas de l’eau !.....”
English
Low window of cruel mistress, How many sighs I made for you! My heart burns, like a candle When I hear your name, my beauty!
Oh, be like the snow! The snow is cold but one can touch it. And you, how can you be so stern and cruel? Seeing me dying, don't you want to help me?
I wish I was a boy again Who sells water in a street, To go away from here to big houses: Dear ladies! Ah! Who wants some water?
If any girl asks from balcony: "Who is this guy who sells water?" I'll answer ,with reserve: "It's my tears of love, it's not water!"
Song. Sung in Italian. XVIIth century. Joyful & carefree. Male voice, Song. Sung in Italian. XVIIth century. Joyful & carefree. Male voice, mandolins, acoustic guitar & tambourin.歌词
Italianol coracino, che andava per mare, venne voglia di sposarsi. si fece un bel vestito di scaglie di spine pulito pulito con una parrucca tutta piena di rimasugli avvolti, con il colletto, fazzoletto da collo e polsini di seta inglese molto fine.
Con i calzoni di reti di fondo, scarpe e calze di pelle di tonno e mantella e mantellina di alghe e peli di bue marino, con bottoni e bottoniera di occhi di polipo, seppie e coregoni bianchi * fibbie, spada e fiocchi dorati di nero di seppia e fette di occhiata
Due belle catene di polmone di conchiglie, un capello elegante di codini di luccio salato. tutto inamidato** e ben stirato faceva il fighetto, girava di quà e di là per trovarsi la fidanzata
La Sardina, al balcone stava suonando il colascione*** e a suono di trombetta, cantava questa arietta: "O larello o marellena e la figlia della zia Lena ha lasciato il fidanzato perché niente glia ha regalato!"
Il Guarracino che la guardò della Sardina si innamorò, se ne andò dalla Bavosa. la più vecchia maliziosa. le diede una bella mancia per mandarle un messaggio. La bavosa, pissi pissi chiaro e tondo glielo disse.
Nel sentirla la Sardella rossa rossa si fecce, per la vergogna che la prese sotto uno scoglio si infilò, ma la vecchia Bavosa subito disse: "Ah, schizzinosa! In questa maniera non trovi partito in gola ti resta il marito".
Se hai voglia di accasarti tante smorfie non le devi fare, fuori la galanteria e via la timidezza, anima e cuore e faccia tosta". Ciò sentendo la zia Sardina s'affacciò alla finestrella e fece un occhiolino d'intesa allo speranzoso innamoratino.
Ma la Patella che stava appostata la chiamò faccia tosta, traditrice, svergognata, senza parola e malnata perché aveva piantato l'Alletterato, primo e antico fidanzato di carriera da questo andò e ogni cosa gli disse.
Quando la sentì il poveretto se lo prese un demonio andò a casa, s'armò di rasoio, si caricò come un mulo di fucili, di spingarde, polvere, palle, stoppa e schegge; quattro pistole e tre baionette in tasca si mise.
Sulle spalle settanta colubrine, ottanta bombe e novanta cannoni e come un guappo paladino andava cercando il coracino. La sfortuna vuole che in mezzo la piazza lo incontrò l'afferra per il cravattino e poi gli dice: "Ah malandrino!
Tu mi rubi la fidanzata e prenditela questa bastonata". Tuffete e taffete, a milioni, gli dava schiaffi e colpi alla gola, schiaffi, pugni e scappellotti, scappoloni, fecozze**** e percosse alla nuca, scapaccioni e pugni al volto e gli ammaccò ossa e cartilagini.
Succede che al rumore parenti e amici uscirono fuori, chi con mazze, coltelli e coltellini, chi con spade,spadoni e spadini quello con sbarre, questo con spiedi chi con mandorle e chi con nocciole, chi con tenaglie e chi con martelli chi con torroni e susamielli *****
Padri, figli, mariti e mogli si azzuffarono come fiere e milioni accorrevano a frotte, i pesci di questa e di quella fazione Quante ne vedesti di sarde e di alose di palamiti e sogliole e razze chiodate, saraghi, dentici e occhiate, sgombri, tonni e alletterati.
Pesci palombo e rane pescatrici, scorfani, cernie e alici, pastinace, seriole, musdee e ghiozzi rasposi, lecce stelle, lucci e storioni, merluzzi, gronghi e murene, capodogli, orche e balene, capitoni, aguglie e aringhe, cefali, caponi lira, tracine e cernie dorate.
Triglie, torpedini occhiute, trote e tonni, musdee, cepole, latterini e zerri, polipi, seppie e calamari, pesci spada e stelle di mare pesci palombo e pesci martello bocche d'oro e gianchetti, seppioline e coracini cannolicchi, ostriche e ricci di mare.
Vongole, cuori eduli e patelie pescecani e granchietti tordi marvizzi, marmore e bavose, boghe, vedove e spose, spigole, spondili, serpenti e salpe, scalze con gli zoccoli o con le scarpe, murici, gamberi e aragoste vennero perfino con le diligenze.
Capitoni, sauri e anguille, pesci grossi o piccoli, d'ogni ceto e nazione. Piccolini, piccoli, più grandi e grandissimi! Quante botte, mamma mia! Che si davano. Non sia mai! A centinaia le bastonate! A milioni le pietrate!.
Morsi e pizzicotti a bilioni! A pioggia i colpi alla gola! Non vi dico che fuoco vivo si faceva per ogni luogo. Te, te, ttè, qua pistolettate, ta, ta, ttà, là schioppettate tu, tu, ttù, qua le colubrine, bu, bu, bbù, là i cannoni.
Ma di cantare sono già stanco e ora mi manca il fiato, perciò, datemi licenza grazioso e bel pubblico. Fate che beva una mezza di "seje"******, alla salute di lui e di lei, altrimenti mi si secca il gargarozzo, svuotandosi il polmone.
English
The chromis that swam in the sea he decided to marry. He made a nice suit From the sharp scale, very neat. He' put on a curly wig Strewed with small cockle-shell, A collar, a shawl on a neck and cuffs made of english silk, very thin.
Trousers from a net, Boots and socks from a skin of tunny, A cloak and a cape From algae and bristle of a dugong, With buttons and press-buttons From eyes of octopus, cuttlefish and vendace, Buckles, a sword and gilded bands From ink of cuttle and a bile of saddle bream.
Two beautiful chains From cockle-shells, An elegant hat From tails of ling. Everything is starched and ironed, He seemed like a dandy. He swam here and there To find a bride.
A sardine stood on her balcony, Playing the lute; And hearing a sound of trumpet, She sang a song: "Oh, sea, sea, A daughter of my aunt Lena Left his fiance Because he gave nothing to her!"
The chromis saw her And felt in love with sardine. went away to a blenny Grumbling old fish. He gave her money To send a message to sardine. The blenny, in a whisper, Told it to her clearly.
Hearing this message, The sardine was blushed. From the shyness She hided under a rock. But old blenny told her: "Ah, fastidious! In this way you'll not find a fiance And remain without husband.
If you want to marry, You don't have to make difficulties! Forward the courtesy 1 and away the shyness! Be with the kind heart and soul!" Listening to an aunt, the sardine looked out from window And winked in consent At the lover, full with hopes.
But the patella that stood beside, called her "Impudent, Traitress, shameless, Not keeping word and rude", Because she had left the tunny, Her first fiance. She went away from him so fast And told him many things.
When poor tunny heard it, He was possessed by demon. He went to home, armed himself with knife, He loaded himself like a mule With guns, springalds, Powders, bullets, tows and gun tubes. Four pistols and three bayonets, He put them in his pocket.
On his shoulders there were seventy muskets, Eighty bombs and ninety cannons And like a cruel knight He came search the chromis. The misfortune wanted so, And in the middle of square the tunny found him, Has seized him by the collar And told him: "Ah, villain!
You've stolen my bride, Take this blow!" Million punches, He slapped him in the face. Slaps in face, clips on the back of head, Stabs, bumps, punches on head, Kicks, punches on face, He broke to pieces his bones and cartilages.
The noise was risen, Relatives and friends came out. Who with maces, knives and clasp-knives, Who with swords, rapiers and sabres. That came with girders, this came with spears, Who with almonds and who with nuts, Who with nippers and who with hammers, Who with turrons and susamielli 2.
Fathers, children, husbands and wives Fighted like the beasts. Millions gathered in throng, Fishes of two sides. How many sardines one could see, How many shads, plaices and various rays, Crucians, dentexes and saddle breams, Mackerels, tunnies and tunas.
Houndsharks and sea-devils, Scorpionfish, dusky groupers and anchovies, Stingrays, amberjacks, cods and gobies, Pompanos, barracudas and sturgeons, Hakes, congers and morays, Cachalots, killer whales and whales, Eels, garfishes and herrings, Mullets, gurnards, weeverfishes and tenches.
Surmullets, electric rays, trouts and tunnies, Pomfrets, bandfishes, sand-smelts, picarels, Octopuses, cuttlefishes and squids, Swordfishes and starfishes, Houndsharks and hammerhead sharks, Shade-fishes and sand eels, Octopuses and chromises, Sword razors, oysters and sea urchins.
Carpet shells, cockles and sea snails, Sharks and crabs, Wrasses, sea breams and blennies, Bogues, widows and married, Seabasses, sea daces, snakes, salema porgies, Barefooted, with heels or with boots, Sea snails, shrimps and spine lobsters, Everybody came with the diligence.
Eels, horse-mackerels and grigs, Small and big fishes Of every estate and nation, Small, big and biggest. How many punches, mama mia, They have made. Horror! Thousands punches with stick, Millions punches with stone!
Billions bites and tweaks, A hail of punches to neck. I cannot tell you what live fire burned everywhere. Te - te - ttè, here a wound from pistols, Ta - ta - ttà, there from guns, Tu - tu - ttù, here from muskets, Bu - bu - bbù, there from cannons. But I'm tired already sing about it And now I'm short of breathing. Therefore give me a respite, Dear and nice public! Let's drink a half glass Health of him and her, Otherwise my throat will be dry parched, The lungs will be empty.
Song sung in French. 30's. Jazzy, mischievous & loving. Male & female Song sung in French. 30's. Jazzy, mischievous & loving. Male & female singer duet, piano, bassoon & rhythm.歌词
Un reflet de vous dans la vitrineEt mon cœur soudain se ranimeComme au ciné ou dans les magazinesUn reflet de vousVos yeux qui m’entraînentVotre charme de ParisienneVotre silhouette sur la mienneUn reflet de vous,Votre taille fineDéjà je vous imagine...Au volant de votre DauphineEntre Paris et Morzine
Un reflet de vous dans la vitrineEt mon cœur soudain s’illumineDu bout des yeux je vous devineUn sourire de vous,Vos fines moustachesQui se reflètent dans la glaceEt ce bonheur qui me dépasseUn veston croisé,Le regard en coinVotre charme parisienUn reflet de vous, je vous vois sur l’heureFringant sur votre scooter
Un reflet de nousDedans la vitrineLe destin qui se dessineAu volant d’une limousineNous partirons pour la Chine(Adieu, partons pour la Chine)
English translation : UN REFLET DE VOUS
Your réflection in the windowAnd my heart leaps upLike in the movies or in the magazinesYour reflectionYour eyes enchant meYour Parisian charmYour silhouette on mineYour reflectionYour slim waistAlready I imagine you…At the wheel of your DauphineBetween Paris and Morzine Your reflection in the windowAnd my heart suddenly brightensWith a glimpse I make you outYour smileYour fine moustacheReflected in the mirrorAnd the happiness I can but imagineA double-breasted jacketA sidelong glanceYour Parisian charmYour reflection, I see you straight awayA dashing image on your scooter
Your reflectionIn the windowDestiny is drawnAt the wheel of a limousineWe’re off to the China
Song sung in French. 50's. Paris. Exhilarating & sentimental. Female Song sung in French. 50's. Paris. Exhilarating & sentimental. Female singer, piano, strings & guitar.歌词
ParisT'as l'palpitant à Notre-DameMais l'Amour c'est rue d'AmsterdamQu'on l'achète, pour des picaillons,Mêm' à c'prix là parfois c'est bon ParisT'as la tête au creux des nuagesLa Tour Eiffel et trois étagesQui scintillent quand arriv' le soirDès fois qu'tu vois tout trop en noir ParisT'as les pieds au bord de la SeineOù s'noie l’chagrin quand t’as d’la peineSous des vagues de mélancolieAu son des orgu' de Barbarie ParisT’as les esgourd' qu’ont des bouchonsA caus' de la circulationT’as plus vingt berges et dans ta voixQuand tu gamberges ça n’est plus toi
ParisT'as les poumons dans l' Bois d'VincennesDans l’Bois d'Boulogne des phénomènesQui respirent un parfum d’amour Qui ne durera pas toujours
ParisDans tes veines y a l'métro qui ramePour écouler tous les quidamsQui s'serrent les coudes au p'tit matinPour s'faufiler jusqu'au turbin ParisT’as les tripes au Quartier LatinQuand vient l’mois d’Mai et dans la mainTu tiens l'fusil ou bien l' canonA l'heur' de la Révolution ParisY a tes peintres qui t'font des couleursDes piqu'assiettes qui n'ont pas peurD'impressionner dans les salonsTime is Monet ou Valadon ParisT'as tant d'amour dans tes chansonsQu'parfois on en perd la raisonQu'on se les siffle à tout bout d'champEt parfois mêm' aux enterr'ments
English translation :
PARIS ParisYour heart is in Notre DameBut love, it’s in rue d’AmsterdamWhere you buy it for peanuts ParisYour head is nestled in the cloudsThe Eiffel Tower and its three storiesWhich sparkle as night fallsIf ever you looking on the dark side ParisYour feet on the bank of the SeineWhere sadness drowns when you’re in painUnder waves of melancholyTo the sound of the barrel organ Paris,Your ears are blockedBecause of the trafficYou’re no longer twenty and in your voiceI you think about itIt’s no longer you ParisYour lungs are in the Bois de VincennesAnd in the Bois de Boulogne these creaturesWho breeze a perfume of loveWhich will not last forever ParisIn your veins there’s the metro striving To circulate your populationCrushed together in the early morningOn their way to work ParisYour guts are in the Latin QuarterWhen the month of May comes aroundPistol in your hand or even the canonAt the hour of the Revolution ParisPainters fill you with coloursScroungers
unafraidTo make an impression in the salonsTime is Monet or Valadon ParisSo much love in your songsSometimes loosing our heads in themWhistling them at every turnAnd sometimes even at funerals
Song sung in French. 20's. Java. French dance. Montmartre. Bouncy & Song sung in French. 20's. Java. French dance. Montmartre. Bouncy & melancholic. Female singer, accordion, piano, banjo & clarinet.歌词
Tu n’as pas su m’aimerComme l’on doit aimerEst-ce un refrain de poète Qui t’a fait perdre la tête ?Le temps passe et pourtantMalgré moi je t’attendsEt dans Montmartre la nuit Levant les yeux je me dis : Tant que tournerontLes ailes en rond,Du Moulin de la GaletteMon cœur chantera,Comme auprès de toi,La chanson des jours de fêteQuand dans le faubourgLes yeux pleins d’amourSur moi tu posais la têteQu'elles sont joliesBrillant dans la nuitLes ailes du Paradis
Depuis ce jour mauditJe traîne dans ParisEt dans le moindre visage
Je recherche ton imageLes jours semblent si longsQu' au fil des rues sans nom Si le cafard me chahuteJe regarde vers la Butte
English translation : Moulin de La Galette You couldn’t love meLike you should Is it with the poet’s refrainThat you lost your head?Time goes by and stillI wait for you despite myselfAnd in Montmartre at nightRaising my eyes I say to myself: As long as Windmill blades of the of the Moulin de La Galette shall turnMy heart will singLike when I am near youThe song of the feast daysWhen in the faubourgEyes full of loveYou leant your head on mineHow pretty they areShining in the nightThese wings of Paradise Since this accursed dayI roam the streets of ParisAnd every faceI seek your reflectionThese days seem so longthat on street after nameless streetIf the blues takes holdI look toward la Butte (of Montmartre)
Instrumental version, no voice. France. 20's. Java. French dance. Instrumental version, no voice. France. 20's. Java. French dance. Montmartre. Bouncy & melancholic. Clarinet, accordion, piano, banjo & strings.
Song sung in French. 20's & 50's. Waltz. Disturbing & dramatic. Song sung in French. 20's & 50's. Waltz. Disturbing & dramatic. Female singer, accordion, piano & double-bass.歌词
Sur les toits de Paris la nuitLes Apaches* sont réunisEt dans l’éclat de lune qui blanchit les maisonsDes ombres se projettent en longIls préparent un coup vengeurLa lame de couteau sur le cœurEt demain on lira dans les journaux du soir :« Un homme a succombé dans le noir » Ah ! regardez-les passer quand ils glissent sans bruitFilant à travers les rues d’un quartier de Paris Ils n’ont pas l’air de s’en faire et partent à la conquêteDes filles qu’ils font danser le soir au bal musetteEt sur les accords vibrants d’un vieil accordéonMurmurent les mots d’amour qui donnent le frissonMais ils finiront un jour reclus à la Roquette*Et regretterons le temps qui fait perdre la tête... Au bord du Canal St MartinDans la froideur d’un p’tit matinUne étrange silhouette s’arrête un court instantEst-ce un marinier ou un passant ?L’onde calme soudain s’agiteUne forme se précipiteEt dans le rouge sang d’un fugace refletUn corps disparaît à tout jamais Écoutez filles des faubourgsPrenez garde aux trop beaux discoursLes serments prononcés à la lueur d’un lampionSont là pour vous faire perdre raisonSi le cœur de Paris la nuitVous entraîne dans ses foliesDieu sait où les baisers de ces mauvais garçonsUn jour ou l’autre vous conduiront ?
English translation : Apaches On the rooftops of ParisThe Apaches meetAnd as the white light of the moon shines on the houses belowAnd the shadows lengthenThey are preparing their revengeKnife blade on their heartsAnd tomorrow we will read in the evening papers:“A man succumbed in the darkness” Ah ! Watch them slip silently by Criss crossing the streets of the Parisian quartierThey don’t seem too concerned and set out to win the heartsOf the girlsThey dance with in the evening at the bal musette*And to the Moving vibrato of an old accordionThey whisper sweet nothings to make heart flutterBut they will end up one day in the RoquetteAnd will regret these heady moments On the banks of the Saint Martin CanalIn the chill of the early hoursA strange silhouette halts just for a momentIs it a bargeman or a passer-by?Suddenly the calm waters are disturbedA shadow flees byAnd in the red blood of a fleeting reflexionA body disappears forever Listen you faubourg girlsBeware of pretty storiesVows pronounced by the light of a Chinese lanternAre there to make you loose your headsIf the heart of Paris by nightLeads you into a follyLord knows where these bad boy’s kissesWill take you one day or another.
Song sung in French. 20's & 30's. Java. French dance. Funny & heavy. Song sung in French. 20's & 30's. Java. French dance. Funny & heavy. Female singer, accordion & small ensemble.歌词
J'pensais qu'tu seraisMa tout' p'tit femmeMa tout'p'tite cailleMais patatra!V'là qu'un p'tit garsUn dur à brasDans ton jardin A déboulé C'est pas mon fort Les matadorsLes gros fortichesLes gros costauds J'croyais qu'tu s'raisMa fleur du soirPour moi, peinardBonjour, bonsoirMais v'la t'y pasQu'un grand gaillardA mis son r'gardDans tes yeux noirs
Ce qui me resteMa gigoletteMa p'tite pouletteC'est ma chopineC’est mon litronEt puis mon schlassEt puis ma poissePour pas un rond
English translation : It’s not my cup of tea I thought you would be my little ladymy little sparrowbut waddya knowHere’s a little guyA tough nutIn your gardenTurns up It’s not my cup of teaMatadorsTough guys I thought you would beMy evening flowerFor me alone, no worriesHello helloWaddya knowA great hunkIs staring intoYour black eyes What’s left my little teaseMy little chickadeeIs my bottle,My shot of hoochMy bladeAnd my bad luckAll that for zilch
Instrumental version, no voice. France. 20's & 30's. Java French Instrumental version, no voice. France. 20's & 30's. Java French dance. Funny & heavy. Clarinet, accordion & piano.
Song sung in French. 50's. Paris. Waltz. Romantic & moving. Female Song sung in French. 50's. Paris. Waltz. Romantic & moving. Female singer, accordion & small ensemble.歌词
Il y aura toujours un p'tit air de rengaineAu fond d'une cour, sur les bords de la SeineUn refrain qui conjugue l'amourEt puisLes amants de ParisIl y aura toujours une frêle guinguettePour danser à deux, pour s'aimer en cachetteUn hôtel à trois pas du faubourgOù l'on confond la nuit et le jour Il est au fin fond d’une impasseUne maison où l'on s'enlaceA l'abri des sombres regardsDes bourgeois qui passent le soirIl n'y a même pas de terrasseMais chacun y trouve sa placeEt dans un coin l'accordéonOffre alors à chacun sa chanson
English translation : There will always be There will always beA little old songIn a courtyard, on the banks of the SeineA refrain which bindsAmour with the lovers of ParisThere will always beA creaky guingetteTo dance together, to love in secretAn hotel stone’s throw from the faubourgWhen night and day entwine Down the end of an alleyA house where we entwineAway from the dark looksOf the bourgeoisie passing by in the eveningThere is not even a terraceBut everyone can find their placeAnd in a corner the accordionOffers each their song
Song sung in French from Aristide Bruant. End of the 19th century. Song sung in French from Aristide Bruant. End of the 19th century. Dramatic & moving. Singer & accordion.歌词
Elle avait sous sa toque de martre,
Sur la butte Montmartre,
Un petit air innocent. On l'appelait rose, elle était belle,
À sentait bon la fleur nouvelle,
Rue Saint-Vincent. Elle avait pas connu son père, Elle avait plus de mère, Et depuis 1900,A’ demeurait chez sa vieille aïeule Où qu'à s'élevait comme ça, toute seule, Rue Saint-Vincent. À travaillait déjà pour vivre Et les soirs de givre, Dans le froid noir et glaçant, Son petit fichu sur les épaules, À rentrait par la rue des Saules, Rue Saint-Vincent.
Elle voyait dans les nuit gelées, La nappe étoilée, Et la lune en croissant Qui brillait, blanche et fatidique Sur la petite croix de la basilique, Rue Saint-Vincent. L'été, par les chauds crépuscules, A rencontré Jules, Qu'était si caressant, Qu'à restait la soirée entière, Avec lui près du vieux cimetière, Rue Saint-Vincent. Et je petit Jules était de la tierce Qui soutient la gerce, Aussi l'adolescent, Voyant qu'elle marchait pantre, D'un coup de surin lui troua le ventre, Rue Saint-Vincent. Quand ils l'ont couché sur la planche, Elle était toute blanche, Même qu'en l'ensevelissant, Les croque-morts disaient que la pauvre gosse Était crevé le soir de sa noce, Rue Saint-Vincent. Elle avait sous sa toque de martre,
Sur la butte Montmartre, Un petit air innocent. On l'appelait rose, elle était belle, À sentait bon la fleur nouvelle, Rue Saint-Vincent.
English translation : RUE SAINT VINCENT She had not known her fatherHer mother was goneAnd since 1900She lived in her old grandma’ s houseWhere she took care of herself She was already working for livingAnd on frosty evenings In the black freezing coldHer little shawl aroun her shouldersShe came home by the rue des SaulesRue Saint-Vincent. In these frozen nightsShe saw the curtain of the starsAnd the crescent moonShining white and fatefulOn the little croce of the basilicaRue Saint-Vincent. By the warm summer twilightShe would meet Jules,Who was so tenderShe would stay all evening longWith him near the old cemeteryRue Saint-Vincent. And the young Jules was a good-for-nothingPimping the girlsWhen this kidSaw she was not playing the gameHe stabbed her in the stomachRue Saint-Vincent. When they laid her outShe was all white.The undertakers burying herSaid that the poor childCroaked on her wedding day
Beneath her marten hatOn the Butte Montmartre,She had an innocent little air.She was called Rose, she was beautifulWith a scent like a young flowerRue Saint-Vincent.
Instrumental version, no voice. France. End of the 19th century. Instrumental version, no voice. France. End of the 19th century. Dramatic & moving. Solo accordion.
Song sung in French. Historical song. First World War.1917. Dramatic. Song sung in French. Historical song. First World War.1917. Dramatic. Male singer & accordion.歌词
Quand au bout d'huit jours, le r'pos terminé, On va r'prendre les tranchées, Notre place est si utile Que sans nous on prend la pile. Mais c'est bien fini, on en a assez, Personn' ne veut plus marcher, Et le cœur bien gros, comm' dans un sanglot On dit adieu aux civ'lots. Même sans tambour, même sans trompette, On s'en va là-haut en baissant la tête. Adieu la vie, adieu l'amour, Adieu toutes les femmes. C'est bien fini, c'est pour toujours, De cette guerre infâme. C'est à Craonne, sur le plateau, Qu'on doit laisser sa peau Car nous sommes tous condamnés Nous sommes les sacrifiés !Huit jours de tranchées, huit jours de souffrance, Pourtant on a l'espérance Que ce soir viendra la r'lève Que nous attendons sans trêve. Soudain, dans la nuit et dans le silence, On voit quelqu'un qui s'avance, C'est un officier de chasseurs à pied, Qui vient pour nous remplacer. Doucement dans l'ombre, sous la pluie qui tombe Les petits chasseurs vont chercher leurs tombes.
English translation : Craonne Song When at the end of a week's leaveWe go back to the trenches, Our place there is so usefulThat without us we'd get a thrashing.But now it’s finished we've had enoughNobody wants to march anymore.And with hearts downcast with sobs,We're saying good-bye to the civilians, Even without drum or trumpetWe're heading up there with lowered heads. Good-bye to life, good-bye to love, Good-bye to all you women, It's finished, and foreverwe've had it for good with this awful war.It's in Craonne up on the plateau That we're leaving our skins,'Cause we've all been sentenced to die. We're the ones that they're sacrificing A week in the trenches, a week of suffering, And yet we still have hopeThat tonight the relief will come That we keep waiting for.Suddenly in the silent night We hear someone approachIt's an infantry officer Who's coming to take over from us. Quietly in the shadows as the rain fallsThe poor soldiers go in search of their graves Those who’ve got the dough, they will come back'Cause it's for them that we're dying. Now it’s finished, 'cause all us poor soldiers Are going to go on strike. It'll be your turn, fat cats, To go up onto the plateau. And if you want war, Then pay for it with your own skins. On the grand boulevards it's hard to watch All the fat cats whooping it up For them life is good But for us it's not the same Instead of hiding, all these shirkers Would do better by going up to the trenches To defend what they have, because we have nothing All of us poor wretches All our comrades are buried there Defending the wealth of these gentlemen here
Instrumental version, no voice. France. Historic song. First World Instrumental version, no voice. France. Historic song. First World War 1917. Nostalgic. Solo accordion.
Instrumental version, no voice. France. Historic song. First World Instrumental version, no voice. France. Historic song. First World War 1917. Nostalgic. Solo accordion.
Song sung in French. 1868-1920. First World War. Romantic & moving. Song sung in French. 1868-1920. First World War. Romantic & moving. Female singer, piano & accordion.歌词
Quand nous chanterons le temps des cerises Et gai rossignol et merle moqueur Seront tous en fête Les belles auront la folie en tête Et les amoureux du soleil au cœur Quand nous chanterons le temps des cerises Sifflera bien mieux le merle moqueur
Mais il est bien court le temps des cerises Où l'on s'en va deux cueillir en rêvant Des pendants d'oreilles Cerises d'amour aux robes pareilles Tombant sous la feuille en gouttes de sang Mais il est bien court le temps des cerises Pendants de corail qu'on cueille en rêvantQuand vous en serez au temps des cerises Si vous avez peur des chagrins d'amour Evitez les belles Moi qui ne crains pas les peines cruelles Je ne vivrai point sans souffrir un jour Quand vous en serez au temps des cerises Vous aurez aussi des peines d'amourJ'aimerai toujours le temps des cerises C'est de ce temps-là que je garde au cœur Une plaie ouverte Et Dame Fortune, en m'étant offerte Ne pourra jamais fermer ma douleur J'aimerai toujours le temps des cerises Et le souvenir que je garde au cœur
English translation : Cherry Time When we will sing of the cherry timeAnd gay nightingale and mocking blackbirdWill all be happy as locksThe fair ladies will have folly in mindAnd lovers sunshine in their heartsWhen we will sing of the cherry timeThe mocking blackbird will chirp even better But it’s quite short, the cherry timeWhen the two of us go dreaming as we pickCherry earingsCherries of love in matching dressesFalling under the leaves like drops of bloodBut it is quiet short, the cherry timeCoral pendants we pick while we dream When you will be in the cherry timeAnd you’re afraid of love’s sadnessAvoid the fair ladiesI not fearing the cruel painsI will live not one day without sufferingWhen you will be in the cherry timeYou too will feel the sadness of love I will always love the cherry timeIt’s from this time that I keep in my heartAn open woundAnd Lady Fortune being offered to meCould never relieve my painI will always love the cherry timeAnd the memory I keep in my heart
Lively & dancing. French swing of the 40's. Gypsy violin & guitar, Lively & dancing. French swing of the 40's. Gypsy violin & guitar, voice, electronics, fx & rhythm.
Lively & dancing. French swing of the 40's. Gypsy violin & guitar, Lively & dancing. French swing of the 40's. Gypsy violin & guitar, electronics, fx & rhythm.
