Il y a les hôtels des richards (bis)
Tandis que les pauvres déchards (bis)
À demi-morts de froid
Et souffrant dans leurs doigts.
Refilent la comète,
Vive le son, vive le son,
Refilent la comète,
Vive le son
D’ l’explosion.
Dansons, etc.
Ah ! nom de dieu, faut en finir ! (bis)
Assez longtemps geindre et souffrir ! (bis)
Pas de guerre à moitié !
Plus de lâche pitié !
Mort à la bourgeoisie,
Vive le son, vive le son,
Mort à la bourgeoisie,
Vive le son
D’ l’explosion !
Dansons, etc.
The revolutions of 1830, 1848, and 1871, as well as the Great Revolution, left to the people generous heritages of bourgeois-baiting chansons. The barricades of those agitated periods rang with lyric improvisations born of the ferment and frenzy of the hour. The authors were oftener clerks or day labourers than they were poets or professional chansonniers, and their songs, many of the best of which have survived, were genuine songs of the people. But the one supremely great chanson populaire révolutionnaire of the last half of the century just closed, a song as striking in its way as the Carmagnole, the “ Ça Ira, ” the Père Duchêne, or the
