Georges Brassens was a French singer and songwriter known for accompanying … Read Full Bio ↴Georges Brassens was a French singer and songwriter known for accompanying himself with his acoustic guitar. He wrote some extremely controversial, yet poetic songs. In doing so, he managed to change attitudes across France.
He was uncompromising when composing his songs. His tactical method of addressing issues was profound and often humorous, making him a unique and effective figure in the French community.
Brassens, born in 1921 in the small Mediterrenean port of Sete, wanted to be a poet. He realized very early however that poetry in the 20th century could hardly put bread on the table and instead set himself to become a singer.
He is much less famous internationally than contemporaries like Charles Aznavour, Edith Piaf and Yves Montand, as much of the impact of his songs came from the lyrics, which proved difficult to translate into other languages. He loved the Middle Ages and used a great deal of Old French vocabulary, as well as many classical - ie., Latin and Greek - references. Few people, even in France, possess the background to fully understand his songs.
Yet he was at the same time a hugely popular singer and many of his songs still carry a lot of appeal and relevance. In this sense, he can be compared to Boris Vian, to Jacques Brel, and to a lesser extent to Serge Gainsbourg.
He was very sophisticated, yet at the same time used profanity liberally. While he wasn't politically engaged, he was nevertheless unambiguously a leftist, many of his songs carrying blatant and buoyant anarchist overtones.
While his music was initially quite primitive, the 1950's St-Germain-des-Pres influence quickly made itself felt and while subdued and - in his mind - always secondary to the lyrics, it became increasingly sophisticated - to the point that many of his songs have been covered and reinterpretated by jazzmen (see for instance this UK site: www.projetbrassens.eclipse.co.uk)
He died in 1981, but up to this date (2006) there are few French people - including most of those born since - who can't sing along to his most famous song, Les Copains d'abord ("Friends foremost") or his "Bancs public" ("Public Benches").
For those interested, this site carries a number of (quite good) English tranlations of his songs: www.brassens.org
He was uncompromising when composing his songs. His tactical method of addressing issues was profound and often humorous, making him a unique and effective figure in the French community.
Brassens, born in 1921 in the small Mediterrenean port of Sete, wanted to be a poet. He realized very early however that poetry in the 20th century could hardly put bread on the table and instead set himself to become a singer.
He is much less famous internationally than contemporaries like Charles Aznavour, Edith Piaf and Yves Montand, as much of the impact of his songs came from the lyrics, which proved difficult to translate into other languages. He loved the Middle Ages and used a great deal of Old French vocabulary, as well as many classical - ie., Latin and Greek - references. Few people, even in France, possess the background to fully understand his songs.
Yet he was at the same time a hugely popular singer and many of his songs still carry a lot of appeal and relevance. In this sense, he can be compared to Boris Vian, to Jacques Brel, and to a lesser extent to Serge Gainsbourg.
He was very sophisticated, yet at the same time used profanity liberally. While he wasn't politically engaged, he was nevertheless unambiguously a leftist, many of his songs carrying blatant and buoyant anarchist overtones.
While his music was initially quite primitive, the 1950's St-Germain-des-Pres influence quickly made itself felt and while subdued and - in his mind - always secondary to the lyrics, it became increasingly sophisticated - to the point that many of his songs have been covered and reinterpretated by jazzmen (see for instance this UK site: www.projetbrassens.eclipse.co.uk)
He died in 1981, but up to this date (2006) there are few French people - including most of those born since - who can't sing along to his most famous song, Les Copains d'abord ("Friends foremost") or his "Bancs public" ("Public Benches").
For those interested, this site carries a number of (quite good) English tranlations of his songs: www.brassens.org
La ballade des cimeti%C3%A8res
Georges Brassens Lyrics
J'ai des tombeaux en abondance
Des sépultures à discrétion
Dans tout cimetière d'quelque importance
J'ai ma petite concession
De l'humble tertre au mausolée
Avec toujours quelqu'un dedans
J'ai des p'tits bosses plein les allées
Et je suis triste, cependant
Car je n'en ai pas, et ça m'agace
Et ça défrise mon blason
Au cimetière du Montparnasse
À quatre pas de ma maison
À quatre pas de ma maison
J'en possède au Père-Lachaise
À Bagneux, à Thiais, à Pantin
Et jusque, ne vous en déplaise
Au fond du cimetière marin
À la ville comme à la campagne
Partout où l'on peut faire un trou
J'ai même des tombeaux en Espagne
Qu'on me jalouse peu ou prou
Mais j'n'en ai pas la moindre trace
Le plus humble petit soupçon
Au cimetière du Montparnasse
À quatre pas de ma maison
À quatre pas de ma maison
Le jour des morts, je cours, je vole
Je vais infatigablement
De nécropole en nécropole
De pierre tombale en monument
On m'entrevoit sous une couronne
D'immortelles à Champerret
Un peu plus tard, c'est à Charonne
Qu'on m'aperçoit sous un cyprès
Mais, seul un fourbe aura l'audace
De dire "j'l'ai vu à l'horizon
Du cimetièr' du montparnasse
À quatre pas de sa maison"
À quatre pas de sa maison"
Devant l'château d'ma grand-tante
La marquise de Carabas
Ma sainte famille languit d'attente
Mourra-t-elle, mourra-t-elle pas?
L'un veut son or, l'autre ses meubles
Qui ses bijoux, qui ses bibelots?
Qui ses forêts, qui ses immeubles?
Qui ses tapis, qui ses tableaux?
Moi je n'implore qu'une grâce
C'est qu'elle passe la morte-saison
Au cimetière du Montparnasse
À quatre pas de ma maison
À quatre pas de ma maison
Ainsi chantait, la mort dans l'âme
Un jeune homme de bonne tenue
En train de ranimer la flamme
Du soldat qui lui était connu
Or, il advint qu'le ciel eut marre de
L'entendre parler d'ses caveaux
Et dieu fit signe à la camarde
De l'expédier rue Froidevaux
Mais les croque-morts, qui étaient de Chartres
Funeste erreur de livraison
Menèrent sa dépouille à Montmartre
De l'autre côté de sa maison
De l'autre côté de sa maison
Des sépultures à discrétion
Dans tout cimetière d'quelque importance
J'ai ma petite concession
De l'humble tertre au mausolée
Avec toujours quelqu'un dedans
J'ai des p'tits bosses plein les allées
Et je suis triste, cependant
Car je n'en ai pas, et ça m'agace
Et ça défrise mon blason
À quatre pas de ma maison
À quatre pas de ma maison
J'en possède au Père-Lachaise
À Bagneux, à Thiais, à Pantin
Et jusque, ne vous en déplaise
Au fond du cimetière marin
À la ville comme à la campagne
Partout où l'on peut faire un trou
J'ai même des tombeaux en Espagne
Qu'on me jalouse peu ou prou
Mais j'n'en ai pas la moindre trace
Le plus humble petit soupçon
Au cimetière du Montparnasse
À quatre pas de ma maison
À quatre pas de ma maison
Le jour des morts, je cours, je vole
Je vais infatigablement
De nécropole en nécropole
De pierre tombale en monument
On m'entrevoit sous une couronne
D'immortelles à Champerret
Un peu plus tard, c'est à Charonne
Qu'on m'aperçoit sous un cyprès
Mais, seul un fourbe aura l'audace
De dire "j'l'ai vu à l'horizon
Du cimetièr' du montparnasse
À quatre pas de sa maison"
À quatre pas de sa maison"
Devant l'château d'ma grand-tante
La marquise de Carabas
Ma sainte famille languit d'attente
Mourra-t-elle, mourra-t-elle pas?
L'un veut son or, l'autre ses meubles
Qui ses bijoux, qui ses bibelots?
Qui ses forêts, qui ses immeubles?
Qui ses tapis, qui ses tableaux?
Moi je n'implore qu'une grâce
C'est qu'elle passe la morte-saison
Au cimetière du Montparnasse
À quatre pas de ma maison
À quatre pas de ma maison
Ainsi chantait, la mort dans l'âme
Un jeune homme de bonne tenue
En train de ranimer la flamme
Du soldat qui lui était connu
Or, il advint qu'le ciel eut marre de
L'entendre parler d'ses caveaux
Et dieu fit signe à la camarde
De l'expédier rue Froidevaux
Mais les croque-morts, qui étaient de Chartres
Funeste erreur de livraison
Menèrent sa dépouille à Montmartre
De l'autre côté de sa maison
De l'autre côté de sa maison
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Written by: Georges Charles Brassens
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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