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
Le Fantôme
Georges Brassens Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
C'était vêtu d'un drap tout blanc
Ça présentait tous les symptômes
Tous les dehors de la vision
Les faux airs de l'apparition
En un mot, c'était un fantôme!
À sa manière d'avancer
Les hanches, quelque peu convexes
Je compris que j'avais affaire
À quelqu'un du genre que j'prefère
À un fantôme du beau sexe
"Je suis un p'tit poucet perdu
Me dit-elle, d'une voix morfondue
Un pauvre fantôme en déroute
Plus de trace des feux follets
Plus de trace des osselets
Dont j'avais jalonné ma route!"
"Des poètes sans inspiration
Auront pris, quelle aberration!
Mes feux follets pour des étoiles
De pauvres chiens de commissaire
Auront croqué, quelle misère!
Mes osselets bien garnis de moelle"
"À l'heure où le coq chantera
J'aurai bonne mine avec mon drap
Plein de faux plis et de coutures!
Et dans ce siècle profane où
Les gens ne croient plus guère à nous
On va crier à l'imposture"
Moi, qu'un chat perdu fait pleurer
Pensez si j'eus le cœur serré
Devant l'embarras du fantôme
"Venez, dis-je en prenant sa main
Que je vous montre le chemin
Que je vous reconduise at home"
L'histoire finirait ici
Mais la brise, et je l'en remercie
Troussa le drap d'ma cavalière
Dame, il manquait quelques osselets
Mais le reste, loin d'être laid
Était d'une grâce singulière
Mon Cupidon, qui avait là
Flèche facile en ce temps-là
Fit mouche et, le feu sur les tempes
Je conviai, sournoisement
La belle à venir un moment
Voir mes icônes, mes estampes
"Mon cher, dit-elle, vous êtes fou!
J'ai deux mille ans de plus que vous"
Le temps, madame, que nous importe!
Mettant le fantôme sous mon bras
Bien enveloppé dans son drap
Vers mes pénates, je l'emporte!
Eh bien, messieurs, qu'on se le dise
Ces belles dames de jadis
Sont de satanées polissonnes
Plus expertes dans le déduit
Que certaines dames d'aujourd'hui
Et je ne veux nommer personne!
Au p'tit jour on m'a réveillé
On secouait mon oreiller
Avec une fougue pleine de promesses
Mais, foin des dédies de Capoue!
C'était mon père criant "Debout!
Vains dieux, tu vas manquer la messe!"
Mais, foin des dédies de Capoue!
C'était mon père criant "Debout!
Vains dieux, tu vas manquer la messe!"
The song Le Fantôme by Georges Brassens tells the story of a encounter with a ghost. The singer describes the trembling and troubling figure dressed in a white sheet, exhibiting all the classic signs of a vision or ghostly appearance. However, as the ghostly figure approaches, the singer sees the curves of the hips and realizes that this ghost is a female, whom he prefers over a male ghost any day. The ghost explains that she is lost and cannot find her way back home, as her fireflies and bones have disappeared. The singer offers to guide her back and takes her home, where he discovers that the female ghost was a mischievous lover from centuries ago, more skilled in the arts of love than modern-day women.
This song is filled with Brassens's unique blend of humor, irony, and wit. He pokes fun at the idea of ghosts while also portraying them as charming and seductive. The singer's encounter with the ghost is both comical and romantic, and the song's unexpected twist at the end makes it all the more delightful.
Line by Line Meaning
C'était tremblant, c'était troublant
It was trembling, it was disturbing
C'était vêtu d'un drap tout blanc
It was wearing a white sheet
Ça présentait tous les symptômes
It had all the symptoms
Tous les dehors de la vision
All the aspects of a vision
Les faux airs de l'apparition
The false appearance of an apparition
En un mot, c'était un fantôme!
In one word, it was a ghost!
À sa manière d'avancer
From the way it moved forward
À sa façon de balancer
From the way it swayed
Les hanches, quelque peu convexes
The hips, somewhat convex
Je compris que j'avais affaire
I understood that I was dealing
À quelqu'un du genre que j'prefère
With someone of the type I prefer
À un fantôme du beau sexe
To a female ghost
"Je suis un p'tit poucet perdu
"I am a lost little Poucet
Me dit-elle, d'une voix morfondue
She said to me, in a mournful voice
Un pauvre fantôme en déroute
A poor ghost in need
Plus de trace des feux follets
No more trace of the will-o'-the-wisps
Plus de trace des osselets
No more trace of the bones
Dont j'avais jalonné ma route!"
That I had used to mark my way!"
"Des poètes sans inspiration
"Poets without inspiration
Auront pris, quelle aberration!
Will have taken, what absurdity!
Mes feux follets pour des étoiles
My will-o'-the-wisps for stars
De pauvres chiens de commissaire
Poor police dogs
Auront croqué, quelle misère!
Will have nibbled on them, what misery!
Mes osselets bien garnis de moelle"
My well-filled bones!"
"À l'heure où le coq chantera
"At the hour when the rooster crows
J'aurai bonne mine avec mon drap
I will look good with my sheet
Plein de faux plis et de coutures!
Full of fake folds and seams!
Et dans ce siècle profane où
And in this profane century when
Les gens ne croient plus guère à nous
People hardly believe in us anymore
On va crier à l'imposture"
They will cry out fraud!"
Moi, qu'un chat perdu fait pleurer
As for me, who weeps at a lost cat
Pensez si j'eus le cœur serré
Imagine how my heart was tightened
Devant l'embarras du fantôme
In front of the ghost's plight
"Venez, dis-je en prenant sa main
"Come," I said, taking her hand
Que je vous montre le chemin
Let me show you the way
Que je vous reconduise at home"
Let me escort you home"
L'histoire finirait ici
The story would end here
Mais la brise, et je l'en remercie
But the breeze, and I thank it
Troussa le drap d'ma cavalière
Lifted the sheet of my mount
Dame, il manquait quelques osselets
Well, a few bones were missing
Mais le reste, loin d'être laid
But the rest, far from being ugly
Était d'une grâce singulière
Was of a singular grace
Mon Cupidon, qui avait là
My Cupid, who was there
Flèche facile en ce temps-là
Had an easy arrow at the time
Fit mouche et, le feu sur les tempes
Hit the mark, and with fire on my cheeks
Je conviai, sournoisement
I invited, slyly
La belle à venir un moment
The beauty to come for a while
Voir mes icônes, mes estampes
To see my icons, my prints
"Mon cher, dit-elle, vous êtes fou!
"My dear," she said, "you're crazy!
J'ai deux mille ans de plus que vous"
"I'm two thousand years older than you"
Le temps, madame, que nous importe!
Time, madam, what does it matter to us!
Mettant le fantôme sous mon bras
Putting the ghost under my arm
Bien enveloppé dans son drap
Nicely wrapped in her sheet
Vers mes pénates, je l'emporte!
I carry her to my home!
Eh bien, messieurs, qu'on se le dise
Well, gentlemen, let it be said
Ces belles dames de jadis
These beautiful ladies of old
Sont de satanées polissonnes
Are damn mischievous
Plus expertes dans le déduit
More skilled in the pleasure
Que certaines dames d'aujourd'hui
Than some ladies today
Et je ne veux nommer personne!
And I won't name anyone!
Au p'tit jour on m'a réveillé
At dawn, I was awakened
On secouait mon oreiller
Someone was shaking my pillow
Avec une fougue pleine de promesses
With a passion full of promises
Mais, foin des dédies de Capoue!
But, enough of the delights of Capua!
C'était mon père criant "Debout!
It was my father shouting "Get up!
Vains dieux, tu vas manquer la messe!"
Good gods, you're going to miss mass!"
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Written by: Georges Brassens
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind