Pauvre Martin [English translation]

With a spade on his shoulder,

with, on his lips, a sweet song,

with, on his lips, a sweet song,

with, in his spirit, a great courage,

he would go off to slave away in the fields.

Poor Martin, poor destitute,

digs a hole in the earth, digs a hole in time!

To get the food he lives on,

from dawn until sunset,

from dawn until sunset,

he would go off to dig the ground

anywhere, whatever the weather!

Poor Martin, poor destitute,

digs a hole in the earth, digs a hole in time!

Showing on his face

no envious look, no mean look,

no envious look, no mean look,

he tilled other peoples' fields,

always digging, endlessly digging!

Poor Martin, poor destitute,

digs a hole in the earth, digs a hole in time!

And when Death gave him the sign

to work on his last field,

to work on his last field,

he dug himself his grave

doing it quickly, hiding himself...

Poor Martin, poor destitute,

digs a hole in the earth, digs a hole in time!

He dug himself his grave,

doing it quickly, hiding himself,

doing it quickly, hiding himself,

and laid himself out there without saying anything

so as not to bother anyone...

Poor Martin, poor destitute,

sleep under the earth, sleep under time!

• Artist:Georges Brassens
• Album:Le Vent