Канцлер Ги - Крестовый поход - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

The leaves are falling from the trees (straight into the Seine, and into the Loire, and into the Garonne, and wherever you want)

Autumn time has come (Pater Noster!!!)

Everyone has gone on a crusade (von barons, paupers, without pants, in chain mail only),

And they have hung crosses (on their backs, and on their shoulders, and on their asses, and wherever they could).

My lord comes for me (an absolutely perfect Albigensian, therefore, does not know how to fight, and cannot, and does not want to),

He said, you will go with them (right tomorrow, at dawn, exactly at noon, as soon as you wake up),

Mama fainted (right from the balcony, head down, on the mare - she went crazy),

My sister spilled wine (on the servant's face - he is pleased!).

- "Friends, give mommy a lift!" (on the balcony, as it was: upside down, WITHOUT A MARE!!!),

Put the servant in the cellar to sleep (let him sleep it off, alcoholic?)

And I, a young lad (17, 20, 30 years old?)

went to the Holy Land (straight from the spot, from the hayloft, without pants, but with crosses).

The bride runs after me (a face sour as dough),

And after her the father-in-law and mother-in-law (a face angrier, an ass fatter. And where did I run away from my mother-in-law. In general, where can you not run away from them!)

? I sit in a high fortress (eight meters, maybe more - I did not measure. Arrows whistle),

And the master appears to us (a face like a crowbar, his name is Guillaume).

- "Hello, fellow crusaders! Ave Mater!" - "Pater Noster!" - "Yours as well!" - "Thank you all!"

"Now we'll run to the attack!" (left flank, right flank, in general, a bunch? Fuck you, run alone!!!)

And so I run along the dunes (on the sand, on all fours, very quickly, because they'll kill me!),

A Saracen is rushing after me (7/8, 8/7, what a mug, wider than his ass, three times as big, maybe, oh, I didn't measure).

And I run away to the oasis (even if it's a mirage, at least you can't see it),

And let this one run alone (through the desert, through the sand, to the Templars - let them cut him down, fucking Wahhabi!).

Assassins are flying across the sky (all stoned on hashish, hallucinating, the bastards, why are they flying?),

They want to cover us with earth (right up to our necks, or up to our ears, or even up to the top of our heads!)

And I, a young boy (17, 20, 30 years old, maybe more, I don’t remember)

Lying with a severed leg (for camouflage, jaw - nearby, hungry!...)

My squire comes up (his name is Anselm, or Adelm, or Bertrand - I don’t remember?)

"Let me bandage you (awry, awry, with a dirty rag, where are my foot wraps that were standing in the corner yesterday???)"

And into the ambulance (the drawbars are bent, the spokes are broken, without wheels, and... Oh! a horse died!)

I'll put it next to me (for fun, I don't mind; just from behind, with my nose to the wall, between the corpses, so there's no draft).

Many years have passed since then (17, 20, 30 years - forty-eight!!!)

I serve the Hospitallers (I don't worry!)

I grow medicinal herbs (for constipation, diarrhea, and other various ailments)

I guard my squire (from a neighbor, a pervert, a Templar, a sodomite - he'll seduce and not notice!)

The crows have flown south (to Provence, maybe further, but I don't know - they didn't say),

Autumn has come (excel-moxel!!!)