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Fido, Fido, le chien Fido Est un chien vraiment ridicule; On n'sait jamais s'il est su' l'dos, Ni s'il avance ou s'il recule. Il perd son poil et ses babines, Ses oreill's traînent en lambeaux; Quand il pleut il met des bottines, Une casquett' quand il fait beau. Pour lui donner un coup de fer, On fait venir le praticien; Et comme il ne voit plus très clair On l'a counduit chez l'opticien. Et lorsqu'il s'en va-t-à la chasse Il est forcé de mettr' des verres. Les perdreaux rient, les pies l'aggacent, Et les lapins se roul'nt par terre. Fido, Fido, le chien Fido Est un chien vraiment ridicule; On n'sait jamais s'il est su' l'dos, Ni s'il avance ou s'il recule.
- by Michel Veber (1896 - 1965), as Nino [author's text not yet checked 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 Manuel Rosenthal (1904 - 2003), "Fido, Fido", 1934, from Chansons du Monsieur Bleu, no. 3. [ sung text verified 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Laura Prichard) , "Fido, Fido", copyright © 2016, (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: 20
Word count: 122
Fido, Fido, the dog Fido Is a truly ridiculous dog; One never knows if he’s on his back, Nor whether he’s advancing or retreating. He looses track of his hair and his mouth, His ears hang in shreds; When it rains he puts on boots, A little cap when it’s fair. In order to club him on the head with an iron, One must bring in a practitioner; And as he no longer sees clearly One must bring him to the optician. And when he goes off hunting He is forced to put on glasses. The little partridges laugh, the magpies tease him, And the rabbits roll around on the ground. Fido, Fido, the dog Fido Is a truly ridicuous dog; One never knows if he’s on his back, Nor whether he’s advancing or retreating.
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2016 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.
This text was added to the website: 2016-04-14
Line count: 20
Word count: 135