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Pub. Lyon, 1548.
Lyrics: Clément Marot
Un gros prieur son petit fils baisait,
Et mignardait au matin en sa couche.
Tandis rôtir sa perdrix on faisait:
se leve, crache émeutit et se mouche.
La perdrix vire au sel de broche en bouche,
La devora bien savait la science.
Puis quand il eut pris sur sa conscience
Broc de vin blanc du meilleur qu'on élise.
"Mon Dieu", dit il "donne moi patience,
Qu'on a de maux pour servir sainte Église".
So this lardy prior kisses his grandson
And footles around in bed all morning.
To get his partridge cooked he must
Get up, hawk, spit and blow his nose.
The partridge reaches his mouth, salted and spit-roasted,
And he consumes both it, appreciating the skill,
And also, once he's clocked it,
A pitcher of white wine, considered of the best.
Says he: "O.m.g., give me strength,
Stuff happens when you serve Holy Church".
Un gros prieur son petit fils baisait,
Et mignardait au matin en sa couche.
Tandis rôtir sa perdrix on faisait:
se leve, crache émeutit et se mouche.
La perdrix vire au sel de broche en bouche,
La devora bien savait la science.
Puis quand il eut pris sur sa conscience
Broc de vin blanc du meilleur qu'on élise.
"Mon Dieu", dit il "donne moi patience,
Qu'on a de maux pour servir sainte Église".
So this lardy prior kisses his grandson
And footles around in bed all morning.
To get his partridge cooked he must
Get up, hawk, spit and blow his nose.
The partridge reaches his mouth, salted and spit-roasted,
And he consumes both it, appreciating the skill,
And also, once he's clocked it,
A pitcher of white wine, considered of the best.
Says he: "O.m.g., give me strength,
Stuff happens when you serve Holy Church".