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I: in Motreff
1. The young man declared one day
As his house he was leaving
- I will go round to Motreff,
It will be entertaining:
For I am going on my way
To pass where Sweetheart should stay.
My heart pounds and my thoughts stray
At her silver glances! (twice)
2. - Good day, good day, my sweetheart
Good day to you I'm saying
I have seen your door afar,
That I cannot help cheering.
- Sir, you carry along with you,
Loads of compliments, you do!
Pretty speech is a thing to
Which I never object! (twice)
3. - When I was staying at home
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The young man
1. I chose a charming lover,
And she was my next neighbour,
How fine!
I had decided to go and visit her
In the night!
She was asleep, as I came: a dreadful plight! -
The girl
2. - At my door who is knocking?
There is no such awful thing
As noise!
Resting at night is a thing a girl enjoys! -
The young man
3. - "Your wooer and your suitor,
Your most passionate lover,
Is here
Who wants to be by your side tonight, my dear."
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1. - As I did rove Quelvénic Grove
My toil was well rewarded:
I saw a doe wearing a blue
Cover that two stags guarded.
Both of them clerks, I dare remark.
Get up, Lord, you must withstand!
Hunt them at least, none of these beasts
Should desecrate your woodland! -
2. The three poor beasts, as noise increased
Fled the grove early that day,
Took up abode near the highroad,
Till a baker came that way.
- Give us some bread. It will be paid.
For this young girl is hungry.
She followed us. 'Twas perilous
To leave her room, most surely.
3. No one allows that she follows
Her own heart. She escaped.
Her kith and kin will call it sin
That her own life she shaped.
And, the poor thing, she may now sing,
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1. To all the women that you love
For a while - they don't know thereof -
This ditty is a tribute paid;
To passers-by you hardly know
Whom the whims of destiny draw
Along streams you shall never wade.
2. To the girl at the window pane
Who peeps and disappears again,
A lovable but fleeting sight
Of a graceful and slim body
Outlined surreptitiously
That makes you feel gay and look bright.
3. To the fair fellow traveller
Whose bright eyes, a charming picture,
Will make time go by and clock stand
You did understand her, maybe,
And yet you let her go freely
And did not even touch her hand.
4. To the woman in wedding bonds
With one who by no way responds
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1. His Lordship and her Ladyship were both
Very young when they took a wedding oath.
2. She was twelve and he was only thirteen.
Soon a baby boy appeared on the scene.
3. And he was as fair as the rising sun
His beauty could be compared to none.
4. His Lordship the Count asked on that day
The Countess his wife, when in bed she lay:
5. "O Countess, my wife, tell me what I should
Hunt, what kind of game in the nearby wood?"
6. "I'd prefer, by far, some fowl meat to eat.
Partridge flesh is rare of late, such a treat!"
7. His Lordship the Count, on hearing her speech,
Shouldered his gun which he kept within reach.
8. When he had come to the mid of the grove
Whom should he encounter but a white dove.
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1. An unhappy young man, forsaken and alone
Was by his parents' death left to live on his own;
Now, since he was so young, go begging could he dare?
Compassionate folks came and of him they took care.
2. A man in these parts heard of his destitution.
Hastened to make the best of the situation.
"That you work on my estate is what I propose;"
The young man said "I can't. I have no working clothes"
3. "To be sure, I would be able to drive a plough,
But I am so poor that I have no spade or hoe"
And the four crowns they cost I never could afford.
Lend them to me, I shall pay you back, on my word."
4. The farmer hired him on a very long term;
A farmhand he had found, reliable and firm.
Yet one day the lad failed to report to his boss,
Leaving the latter to ponder over his loss.
5. Sometime later he was, upon a handful straw,
Found dead in the far slum where he used to withdraw.
His employer, alas, whose heart was hard as stone
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Early that Sunday I rose, had my repast for the day (twice)
had my repast for the day,
And to my yard I went
Oié tra la la la dira la dira
And to my yard I went
There among its bowers to stray.
A nightingale I heard. In the bush she sang an air.
Her sweet chant caused my heart to lie full lowly in its lair.
- O, young man, young man, tell me, Say, is your mind in pain?
Neither my mind, nor my soul! Neither of them is in pain!
But woe is me for my youth
Oié tra la la la dira la dira
But woe is me for my youth
And all my time spent in vain.
For youth is like a rose, best thing in this lesser world
Old age is sure to cause the fair rose soon to wilt.
Youth, akin to the rose, you'll never last for long!
Once your grace is disclosed, with the wind it is gone along!
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It's not good, so wise people say
To let nature sway her own way;
It is wise to control nature:
Be not tender beyond measure!
No rain ever that did not cease,
No wind that time did not appease;
Tenderness may unite two fools:
As time goes by, tenderness cools.
And yet a handful of fondness,
Is more worth than wealth, quite doubtless!
While fondness brings your heart comfort,
Riches have double-edged import.
My girl's beauty I highly prize:
With her pink cheeks, with her blue eyes,
With her mouth fair beyond compare,
About her, aye, she has an air!
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THE YOUNG MAN
- O listen my darling widow!
It's about time for you to know
What you should leave, what you should do.
So I came to your house to woo.
THE WIDOW
- This year I don't think of marrying
Nor shall I come out of mourning.
I'll enter a convent instead
To God that's the promise I made.
THE YOUNG MAN
- To a convent why should you go?
My town is the place for you, though.
It's the rose's and fine herbs' doom
That in the garden they should bloom.
.
THE WIDOW
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I wear holes in my stockings
And I wore out my clogs,
And I wore out my clogs,
Since I started a-wooing,
Gay gay gay fonladondennig
Since I started a-wooing,
Chasing Lou through meads and bogs.
Everyone begs her graces
When Louise to church walks
In her dress trimmed with laces,
About her are all the talks.
In her dress trimmed with laces,
With roses in her hair,
The lads give backward glances,
Every lass an angry glare.
As she goes by, the lasses
To one another tell:
"I guess, no one surpasses
Her in beauty: she's the belle."
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