Clément Janequin
(c.1485 - 1558)

Cris de Paris, Les
(A.T.T.B. (or S.A.T.B.))
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This work, Janequin : Cris de Paris, Les : scoreid 147829, as published by notAmos Performing Editions, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. All relevant attributions should state its URL as https://www.notamos.co.uk/detail.php?scoreid=147829. Permissions beyond the scope of this licence may be available at https://www.notamos.co.uk/index.php?sheet=about.
Published by Attaingnant, 1530. This edition is offered at original pitch for A.T.T.B. or transposed up a fourth for S.A.T.B.
Lyrics: Anon, probably the composer

Voulez ouir les cris de Paris? Où sont-ils ces petits pions?
Pâtes trèstous chauds, qui l'aira?
Je les donne, je les vends pour un petit blanc.
Vin blanc vin clairet vin vermeil a six deniers
et est à l'enseigne du Berceau qui est en la rue de la Harpe.
Tartelettes friandes a la belle gaufre. Casse-museaux tous chauds.
Ça à boire ça. Vinaigre. Hareng blanc, hareng de la nuit.
Faut-il point de sauce vert? Moutarde fine. Cotrets secs. Souliers vieux.
Choux gelés. Ardre bûche. Haut et bas ramonez les caminades.
Qui veut du lait? C'est moi, je meurs de froid. Pois verts. Mes belles laitues, mes beaux cibots.
Guigne douce. Verres jolis. Lie, lie. Fault il point de sablon?
Argent m'y faut, argent m'y duit. Gaigne petit. Allumette. Houseaux vieux.
Fèves de Maretz. Pruneaux de Saint Julien. Je fais le coucou, moi.
Ma belle poirée, mon beau persil, ma belle oseille, mes beaux épinards.
Pêches de Corbeil, orange, pignes vides.
Charlotte m'amie a petit naveau, appétit nouveau. Amendez vous dames, amendez. Amandes nouvelles, Allemandes nouvelles. Navets. Mes beaux balais. Rave douce.
Feurre. Brie. À un tournoi le chapelet. Chervis. Marrons de Lyon.
À mes beaux poissons. Allumettes seches. Vin nouveau. Fault il point de grais?
Choux, petit choux, tous chauds. Et qui l'aura, le moule de gros bois?
Échaudés chauds. Seiche bourée, Serceau, beau serteau.
Ardre chandelle. Falourde. À Paris sur Petit-Pont, gelines de feurres.
Si vous en voulez plus ouir allez les donc quérir.

Do you want to hear the cries of Paris? Where are they, these small tokens?
Very hot dumplings; who wants 'em?
I'm giving them away; I'm selling them for next to nothing.
White wine, pink wine, ruby wine at six deniers
from at the sign of Aquarius, which is in Rue de la Harpe.
Waffles. Snout cakes, all hot.
It's for drinking, this. Vinegar. White herring, night-caught herring.
Who needs green liquor? Fine mustard. Dried firewood. Old shoes.
Wintered cabbages. Warming woodchips. Sweep your chimblies top to bottom.
Who wants milk? I do, I'm dying of cold. Green peas. Lovely lettuces, onion sets.
Sweet cherries. Pretty glasses. Lees of wine. Who needs some sand?
I need money; that's what I want. On a small margin. Tinder. Vintage gaiters.
Broad beans from Moretz, prunes from Saint Julien, I'm going cuckoo, I am.
My choice amaranth, my choice parsley, my choice sorrel, my choice spinach.
Peaches from Corbeil, oranges, empty pinecones.
My g.f. Charlotte's got a small navel, and a new appetite(!). "Aux amandes, citoyennes".
New almonds; new almains. Turmuts. My lovely besoms. Sweet beets.
Straw. Brie. A rosary for a tourney. Skirret. Lyon chestnuts.
My lovely fishes. Dry spills. Vin nouveau. Who wants grease?
Sprouts or small buns, sweetheart, all hot; and who will have this bundle of logs?
Hot pastries. Stuffed squid. Handsome hoops and what a nice pear!
Bright candles. Plump meatballs. Dunghill hens at Petit-Pont in Paris.
If you want to hear any more, go there and seek them out.