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It is illegal to copy and distribute our copyright-protected material without permission. It is also illegal to reprint copyright texts or translations without the name of the author or translator.

To inquire about permissions and rates, contact Emily Ezust at licenses@email.lieder.example.net

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by Jean Richepin (1849 - 1926)
Translation © by Laura Prichard

Berceuse
Language: French (Français) 
Our translations:  ENG
  Dors, mon fieux, dors,
  Bercé, berçant.
  Fait froid dehors,
  Ça glace l'sang.
  Mais gna d'chez soi
  Qu'pour ceux qu'a d'quoi.

Le vent pince et la neige mouille,
  Berçant, bercé.
Dans un chez-soi on a d'la houille
Ou du bois d'automn' ramassé,
  Berçant, bercé,
  Bercé grenouille.

  Dors, mon fieux, dors,
  Bercé, berçant.
  Fait froid dehors, 
  Ça glace l'sang.
  Mais gna d'chez soi
  Qu'pour ceux qu'a d'quoi.

Not' maison à nous, c'est ma hotte,
  Berçant, bercé.
Et l' vieux jupon qui t'emmaillotte
Jusqu'à ta chair est traversé,
  Berçant, bercé,
  Bercé marmotte.

  Dors, mon fieux, dors,
  Bercé, berçant.
  Fait froid dehors, 
  Ça glace l'sang.
  Mais gna d'chez soi
  Qu'pour ceux qu'a d'quoi.

Ton bedon est vide et gargouille,
  Berçant, bercé.
C'est pas pour nous qu'est la pot-bouille,
Ni le bon pichet renversé,
  Berçant, bercé,
  Bercé grenouille.

  Dors, mon fieux, dors,
  Bercé, berçant.
  Fait froid dehors, 
  Ça glace l'sang.
  Mais gna d'chez soi
  Qu'pour ceux qu'a d'quoi.

J’aurions seul’ment un p’tit feu d’ motte,
  Berçant, bercé,
T’y chauff’rais peton et menotte
Et ton derrièr’ d’ang’ tout gercé,
  Berçant, bercé,
  Bercé marmotte.

  Dors, mon fieux, dors,
  Bercé, berçant.
  Fait froid dehors,
  Ça glace l’ sang.
  Mais gna d’ chez soi
  Qu’ pour ceux qu’a d’ quoi.

Available sung texts: (what is this?)

•   C. Cui 

C. Cui sets stanzas 1-7

Confirmed with Jean Richepin, La Chanson des gueux, Maurice Dreyfous, 1881, pages 5-7.

Note provided by Laura Prichard: "gna" is a colloquial spelling of "y'a"


Text Authorship:

  • by Jean Richepin (1849 - 1926), "Berceuse", appears in La chanson des gueux, in 1. Gueux des champs, in 1. Chansons de mendiants, no. 1, Paris, Éd. Maurice Dreyfous, first published 1881 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

  • by Paul Amiet (1883 - 1942), "Berceuse", published 1926 [ voice and piano ], from Quatre mélodies, no. 4, Paris, Éd. Maurice Senart (E.M.S. 6915) [sung text not yet checked]
  • by César Antonovich Cui (1835 - 1918), "Berceuse", op. 44 no. 1, stanzas 1-7 [ voice and piano ], from Vingt Poèmes de Jean Richepin, no. 1, Éd. "Au Menestrel" Henri Heugel [sung text checked 1 time]
  • by Désiré Hippolyte Dihau (1833 - 1909), "Berceuse" [sung text not yet checked]

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Laura Prichard) , "Lullaby", copyright ©, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 54
Word count: 202

Lullaby
Language: English  after the French (Français) 
Sleep, my son, sleep,
Rocked in your cradle.
It’s cold outside,
It freezes the blood.
But there’s something outside
For those who have that special something.

The wind bites and the snow is wet,
Rocked in your cradle.
At home we have coal
And a pile of chopped wood,
Rocked in your cradle,
Cradled like a little frog.

Sleep, my son, sleep,
Rocked in your cradle.
It’s cold outside,
It freezes the blood.
But there’s something outside
For those who have that special something.

We’re home together, with my little bucket of coal,
Rocked in your cradle.
And the old petticoat that swaddles you
Around your whole body,
Rocked in your cradle,
Cradled like a little marmot.

Sleep, my son, sleep,
Rocked in your cradle.
It’s cold outside,
It freezes the blood.
But there’s something outside
For those who have that special something.

Your tummy is empty and gurgling,
Rocked in your cradle.
We can’t fix it with a stewpot,
Nor the overturned pitcher,
Rocked in your cradle,
Cradled like a little frog.

Sleep, my son, sleep,
Rocked in your cradle.
It’s cold outside,
It freezes the blood.
But there’s something outside
For those who have that special something.

I’d only start a little fire,
Rocked in your cradle,
Your little feet and hands will keep warm
And your backside is all chapped,
Rocked in your cradle,
Cradled like a little marmot.

Sleep, my son, sleep,
Rocked in your cradle.
It’s cold outside,
It freezes the blood.
But there’s something outside
For those who have that special something.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © by Laura Prichard, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
    Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net

Based on:

  • a text in French (Français) by Jean Richepin (1849 - 1926), "Berceuse", appears in La chanson des gueux, in 1. Gueux des champs, in 1. Chansons de mendiants, no. 1, Paris, Éd. Maurice Dreyfous, first published 1881
    • Go to the text page.

 

This text was added to the website: 2023-10-17
Line count: 54
Word count: 258

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This website began in 1995 as a personal project by Emily Ezust, who has been working on it full-time without a salary since 2008. Our research has never had any government or institutional funding, so if you found the information here useful, please consider making a donation. Your help is greatly appreciated!
–Emily Ezust, Founder

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