L'Eglise
Claude Nougaro Lyrics


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Un peu de boue, un bout de ciel
Me voici tel que m'a créé
Je ne sais quel artiste au génie triste
Couché debout pauvre mortel
Me voici tel que je suis né
Sous le pinceau du grand Picasso de là haut

Holà mon pote, sors de l'église
Tout ça mon pote c'est des bêtises
Et loin de l'orgue, retrouve ton orgueil
Laisse tomber le vin de messe
Et laisse plutôt tomber ta main aux fesses
De la souris qui vient de te faire
de l'œil, de l'œil, de l'œi, lde l'œil

Mais la souris sourit aux anges
Et sous sa frange son front est pur
Et dans ses yeux rayonne tant d'azur
Qu'elle me plonge dans un dilemme
Et je ne sais plus si je l'emmène
Dans un hôtel ou bien alors devant l'autel

Holà mon pote sors de l'église
Tout ça mon pote c'est des bêtises
Sors de la chapelle et remets ton chapeau, ton chapeau
Il faut avoir les pieds sur terre
Les seins des filles c'est pas des saint Pierre
Et les cantiques, on gagne peu dans ce boulot
Boulot, boulot, boulot, boulot

Un peu de boue un bout de ciel
Me voici tel que m'a créé
Je ne sais quel artiste au génie triste
Couché debout, pauvre mortel
Me voici tel que je suis né
Sous le pinceau du grand Picasso de là-haut
de là-haut, ho ho ho!
Sors de l'église
Sors de l'église, de a montagne
Sors de l'église
Sors de l'église




Sors de l'église
Sors!

Overall Meaning

The lyrics of Claude Nougaro's song "L'Eglise" talk about the conflict between earthly desires and religious piety. The singer describes himself as a creation of a melancholic genius artist, possibly Picasso, with a mixture of mud and sky. He questions the purpose of his existence and the artist's intentions. However, he addresses his friend, urging him to leave the church, dismissing it as nonsense. He advises his friend to abandon religious rituals, such as drinking the sacramental wine and instead focus on asserting his pride. The singer humorously suggests that his friend should let go of his pious nature and give in to the advances of a flirtatious woman who has caught his attention. He emphasizes her purity, comparing her to an angel, and becomes torn between taking her to a hotel or marrying her in a church. The singer continues to mock the religious institution, urging his friend to leave the chapel and put his hat back on, suggesting that he should remain grounded in reality. He acknowledges the importance of earthly pleasures, like women's breasts, rather than devoting oneself to religious hymns, as they don't lead to financial success. The song concludes with the repetition of the opening lines, emphasizing the contrast between the mundane and the divine, and instructing the listener to leave the church.


Line by Line Meaning

Un peu de boue, un bout de ciel
A mixture of imperfections and aspirations


Me voici tel que m'a créé
Here I am, just as I was created


Je ne sais quel artiste au génie triste
I don't know which artist, with a melancholic genius


Couché debout pauvre mortel
Lying down or standing, poor mortal


Me voici tel que je suis né
Here I am, just as I was born


Sous le pinceau du grand Picasso de là haut
Under the brush of the great Picasso up there


Holà mon pote, sors de l'église
Hey, my friend, come out of the church


Tout ça mon pote c'est des bêtises
All that, my friend, is nonsense


Et loin de l'orgue, retrouve ton orgueil
And away from the organ, regain your pride


Laisse tomber le vin de messe
Forget about the sacramental wine


Et laisse plutôt tomber ta main aux fesses
And rather let go of your wandering hands


De la souris qui vient de te faire de l'œil
From the mouse that just flirted with you


Mais la souris sourit aux anges
But the mouse smiles to the angels


Et sous sa frange son front est pur
And beneath her bangs, her forehead is pure


Et dans ses yeux rayonne tant d'azur
And in her eyes radiates so much azure


Qu'elle me plonge dans un dilemme
That she plunges me into a dilemma


Et je ne sais plus si je l'emmène
And I no longer know if I take her


Dans un hôtel ou bien alors devant l'autel
To a hotel or perhaps to the altar


Sors de la chapelle et remets ton chapeau, ton chapeau
Come out of the chapel and put your hat back on, your hat


Il faut avoir les pieds sur terre
One must have their feet on the ground


Les seins des filles c'est pas des saint Pierre
Girls' breasts are not saintly


Et les cantiques, on gagne peu dans ce boulot
And you don't earn much with hymns in this job


Un peu de boue, un bout de ciel
A mixture of imperfections and aspirations


Me voici tel que m'a créé
Here I am, just as I was created


Je ne sais quel artiste au génie triste
I don't know which artist, with a melancholic genius


Couché debout, pauvre mortel
Lying down or standing, poor mortal


Me voici tel que je suis né
Here I am, just as I was born


Sous le pinceau du grand Picasso de là-haut
Under the brush of the great Picasso up there


Sors de l'église
Come out of the church


Sors de l'église, de la montagne
Come out of the church, from the mountain


Sors de l'église
Come out of the church


Sors de l'église
Come out of the church


Sors de l'église
Come out of the church


Sors!
Come out!




Lyrics © MUSIC SALES CORPORATION, LES EDITIONS DU CHIFFRE NEUF
Written by: Claude Nougaro, Michel Legrand

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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