Yves Montaud “Rue St Vincent”

Paroles et Musique: Marc Ogret 1909
Salabert 1909
autres interprtes: Cora Vaucaire, Patachou, Renaud (1981 “Chansons Ralistes”)

Elle avait sous sa toque de martre,
sur la butte Montmartre,
un p’tit air innocent.
On l’appelait rose, elle tait belle,
a’ sentait bon la fleur nouvelle,
rue Saint-Vincent.

Elle avait pas connu son pre,
elle avait p’us d’mre,
et depuis 1900,
a’ d’meurait chez sa vieille aeule
O qu’a’ s’levait comme a, toute seule,
rue Saint-Vincent.

A’ travaillait dj pour vivre
et les soirs de givre,
dans l’froid noir et glaant,
son p’tit fichu sur les paules,
a’ rentrait par la rue des Saules,
rue Saint-Vincent.

Elle voyait dans les nuit geles,
la nappe toile,
et la lune en croissant
qui brillait, blanche et fatidique
sur la p’tite croix d’la basilique,
rue Saint-Vincent.

L’t, par les chauds crpuscules,
a rencontr Jules,
qu’tait si caressant,
qu’a’ restait la soire entire,
avec lui prs du vieux cimetire,
rue Saint-Vincent.

Et je p’tit Jules tait d’la tierce
qui soutient la gerce,
aussi l’adolescent,
voyant qu’elle marchait pantre,
d’un coup d’surin lui troua l’ventre,
rue Saint-Vincent.

Quand ils l’ont couch sur la planche,
elle tait toute blanche,
mme qu’en l’ensevelissant,
les croque-morts disaient qu’la pauv’ gosse
tait crev l’soir de sa noce,
rue Saint-Vincent.

Elle avait une belle toque de martre,
sur la butte Montmartre,
un p’tit air innocent.
On l’appelait rose, elle tait belle,
a’ sentait bon la fleur nouvelle,
rue Saint-Vincent.

An English Translation of  Saint-Vincent Street

She had under her furry hat,
on the hilltop Montmartre,
an innocent little look
People called her rose, she was pretty
she smelled good – like a new flower
Saint-Vincent street

She hadn’t known her father
she had no mother
and since 1900,
she lived at her old foremother
Where she raised herself like that, all alone
Saint-Vincent street

She already worked to live
and on frosted nights
in the dark and freezing cold
her little scarf on her shoulders
she returned home by Saules street
Saint-Vincent street

She could see in the chilly nights
the starry sky,
and the crescent moon
shinning, white and fatal
on the small cross of the basilica
Saint-Vincent street

Summer, by the hot dusk
she met Jules,
who was so sweet
that she stayed the entire night,
with him near the old cemetery
Saint-Vincent street

And small Jules was a thug
who pimps the chicks
so the teenager,
seeing that she wouldn’t accept to be a prostitute
by a hit of a blade pierced her stomach,
Saint-Vincent street.

When they laid her down in her coffin
she was all white,
while burying her,
the undertakers said that the poor child
was killed the night of her wedding ceremony
Saint-Vincent street

She had a pretty furry hat
on the hilltop Montmartre,
an innocent little look
People called her rose, she was pretty
she smelled good – like a new flower
Saint-Vincent street