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Translation
Les Maudits Francais
They speak with precise words
They pronounce all the syllables
They always kiss
They spend their days on the table (means they spend their time on the table to eat wel)
They have menus we don't understand
They drink wine as if it was water
They eat bread and then "foie gras" (its duck's or goose's liver)
Finding the way not to be big
They do demonstrations every quarter of an hour
On every da** street corners
Every taxis have drivers
Who drive crazily, who stick the *** (means that when they drive they are closed of the car in front of them, they stick the bottom of the car in front of them)
And when they talk about coming at home
It's for the winter of the Indians
The long Ski-doo walks
Or the dog sledge
They have tiny cups
And huge ashtrays
They do real cofee for adults
They swollow it in two gulps
We find their big German sheepdog
And their little beloved poodle
On the floor of the restaurants
Grocer's, pharmacies
They say they have dinner when they have supper
It's already two o'clock when they have breakfast
Early in the morning, it smells yogurt
They don't know eggs and bacon
At the end of the evening, it's more sauer*****
Duck cutlet or snails
Everything's ok untill we taste
Their da** veal's head
A piece of eyelid, a piece of gum
A piece of ear, a piece of brawn
For Quebeckers, this is a little too much (don't know how to translate "papilles gustatives)
Then they think we are extraterrestrials
When we order a glass of milk
Or when we ask: "The bathroom
Is where, please"?
And when they arrive at home
They take a 'tuque and a Kanuk" (don't know what it is)
Start to look for igloos
End up in a sugar cabin
They outright fall in love
With our forests and our lakes
And they start to speak like us
Learn to say "tabernacle" (tabernacle is a Canadian expression to say ****)
And drunk because of the caribou
The Molson and big gin (don't know what Molson is, an alcohol maybe)
They go into ecstasies over our stews
With pig's paws and our dishes of binnes (don't know what binnes is, a Canadian dish I guess)
As we don't have stinky cheese
They put up with an old cheddar (a sort of cheese)
And they don't complain
About our little hybrid cofee neither
When their stay comes to an end
They understood that they don't have the right anymore
To call us the Canadians
Whereas we are Quebeckers
They say goodbye, eyes are soaked
Maple sirup in their luggage
We realize that we look like them
We wish them to have a good journey
We realize they we give kiss
As if we've always done this
As if there was a whole in the Quebeck
zaö✕
Lynda Lemay: Top 3
| 1. | Les maudits Français |
| 2. | Le plus fort c'est mon père |
| 3. | La centenaire |
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