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Lou Gari  
(The Rat)
Nissart lyrics by Élisabeth Bondanelli, music by V. Marceau. Traditional from County of Nice.
Tune La Fille de Londres.
The French original lyrics by Pierre Mac Orlan are not reproduced here. The text given corresponds to the literal translation from the version in Nissart.
| 1st verse |
Un gari es intrat en la crota,
A escassat li babarota,
A fumat lou cachimbau,
S’es mes à jugà dau tambau ;
A vuat lu fiàscou de vin,
Rouiat lu ase de rain,
Balat dau sera au matin,
A espaventat Catin. | | A rat has entered the vault,
It chased away the cockroaches,
Has smoked the pipe (1),
Started playing drum;
It has emptied the wine flasks,
Gnawed into the grapes,
Danced from evening up to morning,
Has frightened Katherine. |
Chorus |
Lou miéu bèu pichin gari de maioun,
Vouoli ti gardà sus lou courpetoun,
Ti regalerai de bouoi pastissoun. | | My nice little home rat,
I want to keep you on my blouse (2),
I’ll regale you with good cakes. |
2nd verse |
Lou gari es mountat sus l’escala,
M’a sautat soubre l’espala,
M’a zounzouneat à l’aurilha
De gran segret de familha ;
M’a dich : « M’en vau au pais,
Retroverai li miéu raïs,
La mar lusenta, chatelina,
Lu miéu amic de la Marina ! » | | The rat climbed up the ladder,
It jumped on my shoulder,
Whispered in my ear
Great family secrets;
It said me: “I’m going back home,
I’ll see again roots,
The glistening sea, quiet,
My friends at Marine!” |
Chorus |
Ah, lou miéu pichin gari de maioun,
Vouoli ti gardà sus lou courpetoun,
Ti regalerai de bouoi saucissoun. | | Ah, my little home rat,
I want to keep you on my blouse,
I’ll regale you with good [dry] sausages. |
3rd verse |
Lou gari a pilhat la museta,
E sus la gauta, una baieta,
Serat la pouorta d’intrada,
A caminat en la valada ;
Au pouort, a raubat un batèu
Cargat de poun e de mèu.
Lou vent a boufat sus li vela,
Au ciel, lusihon li estela. | | The rat has taken the lunchbag,
And, on my cheek, a kiss,
Closed the front door,
It has walked along the valley;
In the harbour, it stole a boat
Loaded down with apples and honey.
The wind has blown into the sails,
In the sky were twinkling the stars. |
Chorus |
Adiéu, lou miéu bèu gari de maioun,
Penserai à tu coura, en lou croutoun,
Anerai tirà lou vin per Titoun. | | Farewell, my nice home rat,
I’ll think about you when, in the little vault,
I’ll go and rack the wine for Baptist. |
1. Cachimbau: long stemmed pipe, with carved bowl, native to Turkey.
2. Sus lou courpetoun: literally “on my blouse”, i.e. “I want to press you to my breast”.
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