Les copains d’abord
Non, ce n’était pas le radeau
De la Méduse, ce bateau,
Qu’on se le dis’ au fond des ports,
Dis’ au fond des ports,
Il naviguait en pèr’ peinard
Sur la grand-mare des canards,
Et s’app’lait les Copains d’abord
Les Copains d’abord.
Ses fluctuat nec mergitur
C’était pas d’la litteratur’,
N’en déplaise aux jeteurs de sort,
Aux jeteurs de sort,
Son capitaine et ses mat’lots
N’étaient pas des enfants d’salauds,
Mais des amis franco de port,
Des copains d’abord.
C’étaient pas des amis de lux’,
Des petits Castor et Pollux,
Des gens de Sodome et Gomorrh’,
Sodome et Gomorrh’,
C’étaient pas des amis choisis
Par Montaigne et La Boéti’,
Sur le ventre ils se tapaient fort,
Les copains d’abord.
C’étaient pas des anges non plus,
L’Evangile, ils l’avaient pas lu,
Mais ils s’aimaient tout’s voil’s dehors,
Tout’s voil’s dehors,
Jean, Pierre, Paul et compagnie,
C’était leur seule litanie
Leur Credo, leur Confitéor,
Aux copains d’abord.
Au moindre coup de Trafalgar,
C’est l’amitié qui prenait l’quart,
C’est elle qui leur montrait le nord,
Leur montrait le nord.
Et quand ils étaient en détresse,
Qu’leur bras lancaient des S.O.S.,
On aurait dit les sémaphores,
Les copains d’abord.
Au rendez-vous des bons copains,
Y’avait pas souvent de lapins,
Quand l’un d’entre eux manquait a bord,
C’est qu’il était mort.
Oui, mais jamais, au grand jamais,
Son trou dans l’eau n’se refermait,
Cent ans après, coquin de sort!
Il manquait encore.
Des bateaux j’en ai pris beaucoup,
Mais le seul qui’ait tenu le coup,
Qui n’ait jamais viré de bord,
Mais viré de bord,
Naviguait en père peinard
Sur la grand-mare des canards,
Et s’app’lait les Copains d’abord
Les Copains d’abord.
© 1965 ED. MUSICALES 57
Texte et musique G. Brassens
| Friends First
No, this wasn't the raft of the Medusa,
This boat of ours.
Let them tell each other that
Deep in the harbours and ports
It sailed along, taking it easy
On the big duck pond,
And they called it Friends First,
Friends first of all.
Its "fluctuat nec mergitur"
Were not exactly literature,
Begging the pardon of magicians and sorcerers,
Magicians and sorcerers.
The captain and his crew
Were not sons of bitches,
But mates, as good as you could get,
Best mates first of all.
They weren’t high-quality friends
Like Castor and Pollux
Or the guys of Sodom and Gomorrah,
Sodom and Gomorrah.
They weren’t friends chosen
By Montaigne and La Boétie,
But they were mates and got on well together,
Friends first of all.
They weren’t angels either,
They hadn’t managed to get round to reading the gospel,
But in friendship they sailed towards each other in full rigging,
In full rigging.
Jean, Pierre, Paul and the rest,
And this was their only Litany,
Their Credo and their Confiteor,
Friends first of all.
At the slightest hint of Trafalgar,
It was friendship which took over the watch,
That was what gave them their bearings,
Gave them their bearings.
And when they were in distress,
And their arms signalled SOS,
You would have said they were signalling
"Friends first of all."
When the mates met up,
It wasn’t often that one of them was missing,
If there was a gap, he must be dead,
He must be dead.
But never, absolutely never
Did the hole in the water close over him.
A hundred years later, would you believe it,
They would miss him still.
I’ve boarded a lot of boats
But the only one which really stayed on course,
Which never got on the wrong tack,
Never got on the wrong tack,
Sailed along, taking it easy
On the big duck pond,
They called it Friends First,
Friends First.
© 2000 Dr. Ted Neather
This translation aims to convey meaning and not attempt poetry or song.
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