When I come home, she often tells me
That I have a funeral face and she is right.
I work in the cemetery, that's indisputable.
I leave my I head to the locker room and sit down at the table.
Don't let yourself get discouraged, I'm extremely hungry.
Me, I eat like four and I drink like a fool.
Then I'm going back to the cemetery to work as best I can
To digest my pot of beer and my croque-monsieur.
During the priest's prayer, I feel a little peckish
Me, I think about my chop, to my pot-au-feu.
At the first crowns of flowers, I already have the tooth
It's my stomach that cries at each funeral.
Like one side of the cemetery is uninhabited
I planted potatoes in privacy.
And in my black jacket, between two services
I give a watering can and I run to the office .
I scrape, I hoe and I dig, what a happy surprise
When I find a worm for fishing, I put away my catch
In a tin box, the weather is superb .
Here's an amazing place to have lunch on the grass.
Now that the hour has come, the hour of the bottle brush
I'm thinking of my steamed potatoes, of my short- broth.
And when the first drops fall on my top hat
It's my stomach that gurgles, my stomach that growls.
Sometimes I bite an onion, sometimes a clove of garlic.
Sometimes even a mushroom is a food.
You have to make do with it, it's not plentiful
Because you can't see the end of these prayers from the priest.
br/>The wind chases away the clouds, it's providential.
A large disk of cheese spins in the sky.
Hunger goes to my head, I swallow my hat
A button of my jacket and a poor field mouse.
I don't feel at ease, I'm going to give up the ghost
When I think of my paupiettes, of my croque-madame.
That's It's been going on for too long, I lie down a little
On the carpet of greenery and I close my eyes.
It's been going on for too long, I lie down a little
On the carpet of greenery and I close my eyes.

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS