Mother of people without worry
Mother of those who are said to be strong
Mother of holy habits
Princess of people without remorse
Hail to you, Lady Bâtise
You whose reign is little known
Hail to you, Lady Bâtise
But tell me, how do you do it
To have so many lovers
And so many fiancés
So many representatives
And so many of prisoners
To weave with your hands
So many misunderstandings
And make the morons believe
That we are defeated
To make our life flourish
Of low reverences
Of petty desires
Of noble intolerance
Of petty desires
Of noble intolerance
Of petty desires
Of noble intolerance
Mother of our femmes fatales
Mother of marriages of convenience
Mother re daughters of branches
Pale princess of the mink
Hail to you, Lady Blessed
You whose reign is dyed known
Hello to you, Lady Stupid
But tell me, how do you do it
So that no one sees
The knowing smile
Who will make you and me
Very noble cuckolds
To make us forget
That the whores, the real ones
Are the ones who make you pay
Not before, but after
So that it can happen to me
To come across certain evenings
Your familiar gaze
In the depths of my mirror
Your gaze familiar
Deep in my mirror
Your familiar gaze
Deep in my mirror

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