Le temps passé

In the apothecary's accounts
Twenty years, that's a heap of joy
My twenties died in the war
On the other side of the honor field
If I knew a rough time, for sure

It's really the time of my twenties!
Yet, I mourn its loss
It’s dead, it was the good times!

The time that passed is always pretty
Once they've kicked the bucket
We forgive all those who wronged us
The dead are all good folks

In your little memory like a hare
Bécassine, you remember
Our love from the corner of our lips
A love that was null and void
A love worth a penny that didn’t go, for sure
Any further than the end of his bed
Yet, we mourn its loss
It’s dead, it’s been beautified!

I put on my darkest outfit
And my funeral mask
To lead to the realm of shadows
A bunch of old bones
The earth has never produced, for sure
A scoundrel more consumed
Yet, we mourn its loss
It’s dead, it’s been embalmed!