Italiano: Alla mattina appena alzata O bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao, ciao, ciao Alla mattina appena alzata In risaia mi tocca andar.
E fra gli insetti e le zanzare O bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciao E fra gli insetti e le zanzare Un dur lavoro mi tocca far.
Il capo in piedi col suo bastone O bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciao Il capo in piedi col suo bastone E noi curve a lavorar.
O mamma mia o che tormento O bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciao O mamma mia o che tormento Lo t'invoco ogni doman.
Ed ogni ora che qui passiamo O bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciao Ed ogni ora che qui passiamo Noi perdiam la gioventù.
Ma verrà un giorno che tutte quante O bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciao Ma verrà un giorno che tutte quante Lavoreremo in libertà.
Français: Le matin, à peine levéeO bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciaoLe matin, à peine levéeÀ la rizière je dois allerEt entre les insectes et les moustiquesO bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciaoEt entre les insectes et les moustiquesUn dur labeur je dois faireLe chef debout avec son bâtonO bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciaoLe chef debout avec son bâtonEt nous courbées à travaillerO Bonne mère quel tourmentO bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciaoO Bonne mère quel tourmentJe t'invoque chaque jourEt toutes les heures que nous passons iciO bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciaoEt toutes les heures que nous passons iciNous perdons notre jeunesseMais un jour viendra que toutes autant que nous sommesO bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciaoMais un jour viendra que toutes autant que nous sommesNous travaillerons en liberté.
Anglais: In the morning I got up Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao (Goodbye beautiful) In the morning I got up To the paddy rice fields, I have to go.
And between insects and mosquitoes Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao And between insects and mosquitoes A hard work I have to work.
The boss is standing with his cane Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao The boss is standing with his cane And we work with our backs curved.
Oh my god, what a torment Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao Oh my god, what a torment As I call you every morning.
And every hour that we pass here Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao And every hour that we pass here We lose our youth.
But the day will come when us all Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao But the day will come when us all Will work in freedom.
Fenesta vascia 'e padrona crudele, Quanta suspire mm'haje fatto jettare!... Mm'arde stu core, comm'a na cannela, Bella, quanno te sento annommenare! Oje piglia la 'sperienza de la neve! La neve? Fredda e se fa maniare... E tu comme si' tanta aspra e crudele?! Muorto mme vide e nun mme vu? ' ajutare!?...
Vorr? A addeventare no picciuotto, Co na langella a ghire vennenn'acqua, Pe' mme ne j? Da chisti palazzuotte: Belli ffemmene meje, ah! Chi v? ' acqua... Se vota na nennella da ll? 'ncoppa: Chi? 'sto ninno ca va vennenn'acqua? E io responno, co parole accorte: So' lacreme d'ammore e non? Acqua!...
Finestra bassa di una padrona crudele, quanti sospiri mi hai fatto buttare. Mi arde questo cuore, come una candela, bella quando ti sento nominare.
Prendi l'esperienza della neve. La neve e' fredda e si fa toccare. E tu come sei tanto aspra e crudele? Mi vedi morto e non mi vuoi aiutare?
Vorrei diventare un bambino, con una lancella andare e vendere acqua, per andarmene via da questi palazzotti. Belle donne mie, ah. Chi vuole acqua.
Si gira una ragazza da li sopra: "Chi e' questo ragazzo che vende acqua?" E io rispondo, con parole misurate: "Sono lacrime d'amore e non e' acqua".
Français
Fenêtre basse d’une maîtresse cruelle, que de soupirs tu m’as fait gaspiller… mon cœur brûle comme une bougie, ma belle, si j’entends prononcer ton nom ! Prends donc exemple sur la neige : elle est froide, mais elle se laisse caresser, et avec moi, tu es si âpre et cruelle, que tu me vois mourir et tu ne veux pas m’aider ?
Je voudrais devenir un vendeur ambulant, qui vend l’eau avec sa carafe, pour crier d’une maison à l’autre : “Mes belles femmes, qui veut de l’eau ?” Et une fille me voit de son balcon et me dit : “Qui est ce garçon qui vend de l’eau ?” et je lui répondrais avec des mots attristés : “Ce sont des larmes d’amour, ce n’est pas de l’eau !.....”
English
Low window of cruel mistress, How many sighs I made for you! My heart burns, like a candle When I hear your name, my beauty!
Oh, be like the snow! The snow is cold but one can touch it. And you, how can you be so stern and cruel? Seeing me dying, don't you want to help me?
I wish I was a boy again Who sells water in a street, To go away from here to big houses: Dear ladies! Ah! Who wants some water?
If any girl asks from balcony: "Who is this guy who sells water?" I'll answer ,with reserve: "It's my tears of love, it's not water!"
Letras ... Song. Sung in Italian. XVIIth century. Joyful & carefree. Male voice, ...Song. Sung in Italian. XVIIth century. Joyful & carefree. Male voice, mandolins, acoustic guitar & tambourin.
Italianol coracino, che andava per mare, venne voglia di sposarsi. si fece un bel vestito di scaglie di spine pulito pulito con una parrucca tutta piena di rimasugli avvolti, con il colletto, fazzoletto da collo e polsini di seta inglese molto fine.
Con i calzoni di reti di fondo, scarpe e calze di pelle di tonno e mantella e mantellina di alghe e peli di bue marino, con bottoni e bottoniera di occhi di polipo, seppie e coregoni bianchi * fibbie, spada e fiocchi dorati di nero di seppia e fette di occhiata
Due belle catene di polmone di conchiglie, un capello elegante di codini di luccio salato. tutto inamidato** e ben stirato faceva il fighetto, girava di quà e di là per trovarsi la fidanzata
La Sardina, al balcone stava suonando il colascione*** e a suono di trombetta, cantava questa arietta: "O larello o marellena e la figlia della zia Lena ha lasciato il fidanzato perché niente glia ha regalato!"
Il Guarracino che la guardò della Sardina si innamorò, se ne andò dalla Bavosa. la più vecchia maliziosa. le diede una bella mancia per mandarle un messaggio. La bavosa, pissi pissi chiaro e tondo glielo disse.
Nel sentirla la Sardella rossa rossa si fecce, per la vergogna che la prese sotto uno scoglio si infilò, ma la vecchia Bavosa subito disse: "Ah, schizzinosa! In questa maniera non trovi partito in gola ti resta il marito".
Se hai voglia di accasarti tante smorfie non le devi fare, fuori la galanteria e via la timidezza, anima e cuore e faccia tosta". Ciò sentendo la zia Sardina s'affacciò alla finestrella e fece un occhiolino d'intesa allo speranzoso innamoratino.
Ma la Patella che stava appostata la chiamò faccia tosta, traditrice, svergognata, senza parola e malnata perché aveva piantato l'Alletterato, primo e antico fidanzato di carriera da questo andò e ogni cosa gli disse.
Quando la sentì il poveretto se lo prese un demonio andò a casa, s'armò di rasoio, si caricò come un mulo di fucili, di spingarde, polvere, palle, stoppa e schegge; quattro pistole e tre baionette in tasca si mise.
Sulle spalle settanta colubrine, ottanta bombe e novanta cannoni e come un guappo paladino andava cercando il coracino. La sfortuna vuole che in mezzo la piazza lo incontrò l'afferra per il cravattino e poi gli dice: "Ah malandrino!
Tu mi rubi la fidanzata e prenditela questa bastonata". Tuffete e taffete, a milioni, gli dava schiaffi e colpi alla gola, schiaffi, pugni e scappellotti, scappoloni, fecozze**** e percosse alla nuca, scapaccioni e pugni al volto e gli ammaccò ossa e cartilagini.
Succede che al rumore parenti e amici uscirono fuori, chi con mazze, coltelli e coltellini, chi con spade,spadoni e spadini quello con sbarre, questo con spiedi chi con mandorle e chi con nocciole, chi con tenaglie e chi con martelli chi con torroni e susamielli *****
Padri, figli, mariti e mogli si azzuffarono come fiere e milioni accorrevano a frotte, i pesci di questa e di quella fazione Quante ne vedesti di sarde e di alose di palamiti e sogliole e razze chiodate, saraghi, dentici e occhiate, sgombri, tonni e alletterati.
Pesci palombo e rane pescatrici, scorfani, cernie e alici, pastinace, seriole, musdee e ghiozzi rasposi, lecce stelle, lucci e storioni, merluzzi, gronghi e murene, capodogli, orche e balene, capitoni, aguglie e aringhe, cefali, caponi lira, tracine e cernie dorate.
Triglie, torpedini occhiute, trote e tonni, musdee, cepole, latterini e zerri, polipi, seppie e calamari, pesci spada e stelle di mare pesci palombo e pesci martello bocche d'oro e gianchetti, seppioline e coracini cannolicchi, ostriche e ricci di mare.
Vongole, cuori eduli e patelie pescecani e granchietti tordi marvizzi, marmore e bavose, boghe, vedove e spose, spigole, spondili, serpenti e salpe, scalze con gli zoccoli o con le scarpe, murici, gamberi e aragoste vennero perfino con le diligenze.
Capitoni, sauri e anguille, pesci grossi o piccoli, d'ogni ceto e nazione. Piccolini, piccoli, più grandi e grandissimi! Quante botte, mamma mia! Che si davano. Non sia mai! A centinaia le bastonate! A milioni le pietrate!.
Morsi e pizzicotti a bilioni! A pioggia i colpi alla gola! Non vi dico che fuoco vivo si faceva per ogni luogo. Te, te, ttè, qua pistolettate, ta, ta, ttà, là schioppettate tu, tu, ttù, qua le colubrine, bu, bu, bbù, là i cannoni.
Ma di cantare sono già stanco e ora mi manca il fiato, perciò, datemi licenza grazioso e bel pubblico. Fate che beva una mezza di "seje"******, alla salute di lui e di lei, altrimenti mi si secca il gargarozzo, svuotandosi il polmone.
English
The chromis that swam in the sea he decided to marry. He made a nice suit From the sharp scale, very neat. He' put on a curly wig Strewed with small cockle-shell, A collar, a shawl on a neck and cuffs made of english silk, very thin.
Trousers from a net, Boots and socks from a skin of tunny, A cloak and a cape From algae and bristle of a dugong, With buttons and press-buttons From eyes of octopus, cuttlefish and vendace, Buckles, a sword and gilded bands From ink of cuttle and a bile of saddle bream.
Two beautiful chains From cockle-shells, An elegant hat From tails of ling. Everything is starched and ironed, He seemed like a dandy. He swam here and there To find a bride.
A sardine stood on her balcony, Playing the lute; And hearing a sound of trumpet, She sang a song: "Oh, sea, sea, A daughter of my aunt Lena Left his fiance Because he gave nothing to her!"
The chromis saw her And felt in love with sardine. went away to a blenny Grumbling old fish. He gave her money To send a message to sardine. The blenny, in a whisper, Told it to her clearly.
Hearing this message, The sardine was blushed. From the shyness She hided under a rock. But old blenny told her: "Ah, fastidious! In this way you'll not find a fiance And remain without husband.
If you want to marry, You don't have to make difficulties! Forward the courtesy 1 and away the shyness! Be with the kind heart and soul!" Listening to an aunt, the sardine looked out from window And winked in consent At the lover, full with hopes.
But the patella that stood beside, called her "Impudent, Traitress, shameless, Not keeping word and rude", Because she had left the tunny, Her first fiance. She went away from him so fast And told him many things.
When poor tunny heard it, He was possessed by demon. He went to home, armed himself with knife, He loaded himself like a mule With guns, springalds, Powders, bullets, tows and gun tubes. Four pistols and three bayonets, He put them in his pocket.
On his shoulders there were seventy muskets, Eighty bombs and ninety cannons And like a cruel knight He came search the chromis. The misfortune wanted so, And in the middle of square the tunny found him, Has seized him by the collar And told him: "Ah, villain!
You've stolen my bride, Take this blow!" Million punches, He slapped him in the face. Slaps in face, clips on the back of head, Stabs, bumps, punches on head, Kicks, punches on face, He broke to pieces his bones and cartilages.
The noise was risen, Relatives and friends came out. Who with maces, knives and clasp-knives, Who with swords, rapiers and sabres. That came with girders, this came with spears, Who with almonds and who with nuts, Who with nippers and who with hammers, Who with turrons and susamielli 2.
Fathers, children, husbands and wives Fighted like the beasts. Millions gathered in throng, Fishes of two sides. How many sardines one could see, How many shads, plaices and various rays, Crucians, dentexes and saddle breams, Mackerels, tunnies and tunas.
Houndsharks and sea-devils, Scorpionfish, dusky groupers and anchovies, Stingrays, amberjacks, cods and gobies, Pompanos, barracudas and sturgeons, Hakes, congers and morays, Cachalots, killer whales and whales, Eels, garfishes and herrings, Mullets, gurnards, weeverfishes and tenches.
Surmullets, electric rays, trouts and tunnies, Pomfrets, bandfishes, sand-smelts, picarels, Octopuses, cuttlefishes and squids, Swordfishes and starfishes, Houndsharks and hammerhead sharks, Shade-fishes and sand eels, Octopuses and chromises, Sword razors, oysters and sea urchins.
Carpet shells, cockles and sea snails, Sharks and crabs, Wrasses, sea breams and blennies, Bogues, widows and married, Seabasses, sea daces, snakes, salema porgies, Barefooted, with heels or with boots, Sea snails, shrimps and spine lobsters, Everybody came with the diligence.
Eels, horse-mackerels and grigs, Small and big fishes Of every estate and nation, Small, big and biggest. How many punches, mama mia, They have made. Horror! Thousands punches with stick, Millions punches with stone!
Billions bites and tweaks, A hail of punches to neck. I cannot tell you what live fire burned everywhere. Te - te - ttè, here a wound from pistols, Ta - ta - ttà, there from guns, Tu - tu - ttù, here from muskets, Bu - bu - bbù, there from cannons. But I'm tired already sing about it And now I'm short of breathing. Therefore give me a respite, Dear and nice public! Let's drink a half glass Health of him and her, Otherwise my throat will be dry parched, The lungs will be empty.
Letras ... Song sung in French from Aristide Bruant. End of the 19th century. ...Song sung in French from Aristide Bruant. End of the 19th century. Dramatic & moving. Singer & accordion.
Elle avait sous sa toque de martre,
Sur la butte Montmartre,
Un petit air innocent. On l'appelait rose, elle était belle,
À sentait bon la fleur nouvelle,
Rue Saint-Vincent. Elle avait pas connu son père, Elle avait plus de mère, Et depuis 1900,A’ demeurait chez sa vieille aïeule Où qu'à s'élevait comme ça, toute seule, Rue Saint-Vincent. À travaillait déjà pour vivre Et les soirs de givre, Dans le froid noir et glaçant, Son petit fichu sur les épaules, À rentrait par la rue des Saules, Rue Saint-Vincent.
Elle voyait dans les nuit gelées, La nappe étoilée, Et la lune en croissant Qui brillait, blanche et fatidique Sur la petite croix de la basilique, Rue Saint-Vincent. L'été, par les chauds crépuscules, A rencontré Jules, Qu'était si caressant, Qu'à restait la soirée entière, Avec lui près du vieux cimetière, Rue Saint-Vincent. Et je petit Jules était de la tierce Qui soutient la gerce, Aussi l'adolescent, Voyant qu'elle marchait pantre, D'un coup de surin lui troua le ventre, Rue Saint-Vincent. Quand ils l'ont couché sur la planche, Elle était toute blanche, Même qu'en l'ensevelissant, Les croque-morts disaient que la pauvre gosse Était crevé le soir de sa noce, Rue Saint-Vincent. Elle avait sous sa toque de martre,
Sur la butte Montmartre, Un petit air innocent. On l'appelait rose, elle était belle, À sentait bon la fleur nouvelle, Rue Saint-Vincent.
English translation : RUE SAINT VINCENT She had not known her fatherHer mother was goneAnd since 1900She lived in her old grandma’ s houseWhere she took care of herself She was already working for livingAnd on frosty evenings In the black freezing coldHer little shawl aroun her shouldersShe came home by the rue des SaulesRue Saint-Vincent. In these frozen nightsShe saw the curtain of the starsAnd the crescent moonShining white and fatefulOn the little croce of the basilicaRue Saint-Vincent. By the warm summer twilightShe would meet Jules,Who was so tenderShe would stay all evening longWith him near the old cemeteryRue Saint-Vincent. And the young Jules was a good-for-nothingPimping the girlsWhen this kidSaw she was not playing the gameHe stabbed her in the stomachRue Saint-Vincent. When they laid her outShe was all white.The undertakers burying herSaid that the poor childCroaked on her wedding day
Beneath her marten hatOn the Butte Montmartre,She had an innocent little air.She was called Rose, she was beautifulWith a scent like a young flowerRue Saint-Vincent.
Instrumental version, no voice. France. End of the 19th century. ...Instrumental version, no voice. France. End of the 19th century. Dramatic & moving. Solo accordion.
Letras ... Song sung in French from Aristide Bruant. End of the 19th century. ...Song sung in French from Aristide Bruant. End of the 19th century. Dramatic & moving. Female voice & accordion.
Quand elle était p'tite
Le soir elle allait
À Sainte-Marguerite
Où qu'a s'dessalait
Maint'nant qu'elle est grande
Elle marche, le soir,
Avec ceux d'la bande
À la Bastille on aime bien
Nini Peau d'chien
Elle est si bonne et si gentille!
On aime bien
Nini Peau d'chien
À la Bastille. Elle a la peau douce
Aux taches de son
À l'odeur de rousse
Qui donne un frissonEt de sa prunelle Aux tons vert-de-gris
L'amour étincelle
Dans ses yeux d'souris. À la Bastille on aime bien
Nini Peau d'chien
Elle est si bonne et si gentille!
On aime bien
Nini Peau d'chien
À la Bastille.
Quand le soleil brille
Dans ses cheveux roux
L'génie d'la Bastille
Lui fait les yeux doux
Et quand a s'promène
Du bout d'l'Arsenal
Tout l'quartier s'amène
Au coin du Canal. À la Bastille on aime bien
Nini Peau d'chien
Elle est si bonne et si gentille!
On aime bien
Nini Peau d'chien
À la Bastille.
Mais celui qu'elle aime
Qu'elle a dans la peau
C'est Bibi-la-Crème
Parc' qu'il est costaudParc' que c'est un homme
Qui n'a pas l'foie blanc
Aussi faut voir comme
Nini l'a dans l'sang. À la Bastille on aime bien
Nini Peau d'chien
Elle est si bonne et si gentille!
On aime bien
Nini Peau d'chien
À la Bastille.
English translation : NINI PEAU DE CHIEN When she was littleIn the evening she would goTo Saint MargueriteTo unwindNow she is biggerIn the evening she goes walkingWith the little bandOf Richard-Lenoir At the Bastille we like herNini Peau d’ChienShe is so nice, so kindWe likeNini Peau d’ChienAt the Bastille She has soft skinWith frecklesAnd a red hair fragranceTo make you shiverAnd from her green-grey pupilsLove’s sparklesIn her young girl’s eyes When the sun is shiningIn her red hairLe Génie de la BastilleMakes eyes at herAnd when she walksFrom the end of the ArsenalThe Whole neighbourhood arrivesAt the corner of the Canal. But the one she lovesWho gets under her skinIs Bibi-la-CrèmeBecause he is a tough guy Because he is a manWho’s not lily liveredWords can’t sayHow deep in her heart he’s become
Instrumental version, no voice. France. End of the 19th century. ...Instrumental version, no voice. France. End of the 19th century. Nostalgic & determined. Solo accordion.
Letras ... Song sung in French. Historical song. First World War.1917. Dramatic. ...Song sung in French. Historical song. First World War.1917. Dramatic. Male singer & accordion.
Quand au bout d'huit jours, le r'pos terminé, On va r'prendre les tranchées, Notre place est si utile Que sans nous on prend la pile. Mais c'est bien fini, on en a assez, Personn' ne veut plus marcher, Et le cœur bien gros, comm' dans un sanglot On dit adieu aux civ'lots. Même sans tambour, même sans trompette, On s'en va là-haut en baissant la tête. Adieu la vie, adieu l'amour, Adieu toutes les femmes. C'est bien fini, c'est pour toujours, De cette guerre infâme. C'est à Craonne, sur le plateau, Qu'on doit laisser sa peau Car nous sommes tous condamnés Nous sommes les sacrifiés !Huit jours de tranchées, huit jours de souffrance, Pourtant on a l'espérance Que ce soir viendra la r'lève Que nous attendons sans trêve. Soudain, dans la nuit et dans le silence, On voit quelqu'un qui s'avance, C'est un officier de chasseurs à pied, Qui vient pour nous remplacer. Doucement dans l'ombre, sous la pluie qui tombe Les petits chasseurs vont chercher leurs tombes.
English translation : Craonne Song When at the end of a week's leaveWe go back to the trenches, Our place there is so usefulThat without us we'd get a thrashing.But now it’s finished we've had enoughNobody wants to march anymore.And with hearts downcast with sobs,We're saying good-bye to the civilians, Even without drum or trumpetWe're heading up there with lowered heads. Good-bye to life, good-bye to love, Good-bye to all you women, It's finished, and foreverwe've had it for good with this awful war.It's in Craonne up on the plateau That we're leaving our skins,'Cause we've all been sentenced to die. We're the ones that they're sacrificing A week in the trenches, a week of suffering, And yet we still have hopeThat tonight the relief will come That we keep waiting for.Suddenly in the silent night We hear someone approachIt's an infantry officer Who's coming to take over from us. Quietly in the shadows as the rain fallsThe poor soldiers go in search of their graves Those who’ve got the dough, they will come back'Cause it's for them that we're dying. Now it’s finished, 'cause all us poor soldiers Are going to go on strike. It'll be your turn, fat cats, To go up onto the plateau. And if you want war, Then pay for it with your own skins. On the grand boulevards it's hard to watch All the fat cats whooping it up For them life is good But for us it's not the same Instead of hiding, all these shirkers Would do better by going up to the trenches To defend what they have, because we have nothing All of us poor wretches All our comrades are buried there Defending the wealth of these gentlemen here
Instrumental version, no voice. France. Historic song. First World ...Instrumental version, no voice. France. Historic song. First World War 1917. Nostalgic. Solo accordion.
Instrumental version, no voice. France. Historic song. First World ...Instrumental version, no voice. France. Historic song. First World War 1917. Nostalgic. Solo accordion.
Letras ... Song sung in French. 1868-1920. First World War. Romantic & moving. ...Song sung in French. 1868-1920. First World War. Romantic & moving. Female singer, piano & accordion.
Quand nous chanterons le temps des cerises Et gai rossignol et merle moqueur Seront tous en fête Les belles auront la folie en tête Et les amoureux du soleil au cœur Quand nous chanterons le temps des cerises Sifflera bien mieux le merle moqueur
Mais il est bien court le temps des cerises Où l'on s'en va deux cueillir en rêvant Des pendants d'oreilles Cerises d'amour aux robes pareilles Tombant sous la feuille en gouttes de sang Mais il est bien court le temps des cerises Pendants de corail qu'on cueille en rêvantQuand vous en serez au temps des cerises Si vous avez peur des chagrins d'amour Evitez les belles Moi qui ne crains pas les peines cruelles Je ne vivrai point sans souffrir un jour Quand vous en serez au temps des cerises Vous aurez aussi des peines d'amourJ'aimerai toujours le temps des cerises C'est de ce temps-là que je garde au cœur Une plaie ouverte Et Dame Fortune, en m'étant offerte Ne pourra jamais fermer ma douleur J'aimerai toujours le temps des cerises Et le souvenir que je garde au cœur
English translation : Cherry Time When we will sing of the cherry timeAnd gay nightingale and mocking blackbirdWill all be happy as locksThe fair ladies will have folly in mindAnd lovers sunshine in their heartsWhen we will sing of the cherry timeThe mocking blackbird will chirp even better But it’s quite short, the cherry timeWhen the two of us go dreaming as we pickCherry earingsCherries of love in matching dressesFalling under the leaves like drops of bloodBut it is quiet short, the cherry timeCoral pendants we pick while we dream When you will be in the cherry timeAnd you’re afraid of love’s sadnessAvoid the fair ladiesI not fearing the cruel painsI will live not one day without sufferingWhen you will be in the cherry timeYou too will feel the sadness of love I will always love the cherry timeIt’s from this time that I keep in my heartAn open woundAnd Lady Fortune being offered to meCould never relieve my painI will always love the cherry timeAnd the memory I keep in my heart
From "Il Est Née le Divin Enfant". Metal band. Wacky, urgent & ...From "Il Est Née le Divin Enfant". Metal band. Wacky, urgent & relentless. Electric guitare solo @ 2'10. Metal band.
From "We Wish You a Merry Christmas". Epic, frantic & building. ...From "We Wish You a Merry Christmas". Epic, frantic & building. Electric guitar solo @ 0'58 & 2'14. Metal band.
From "Carols of Bells". Epic, mysterious & theatrical. Metal band, ...From "Carols of Bells". Epic, mysterious & theatrical. Metal band, piano & cinematic orchestra.
From "Auld land syne" / "Ce n'est qu'un au revoir". Eccentric, ...From "Auld land syne" / "Ce n'est qu'un au revoir". Eccentric, driving & urgent. Electric guitar solo @ 1'48, 2'36 & 3'00. Metal band.
From "We Three Kings". Grandiose, epic & panoramic. Metal band & ...From "We Three Kings". Grandiose, epic & panoramic. Metal band & cinematic orchestra.
From "Deck The Halls" / "FaLaLaLaLa". Crystalline break @ 1'10. ...From "Deck The Halls" / "FaLaLaLaLa". Crystalline break @ 1'10. Magical, explosive & percussive. Metal band with cinematic orchestra.
From "Auld lang syne" / "Ce n'est qu'un au revoir". Nervous, rhythmic ...From "Auld lang syne" / "Ce n'est qu'un au revoir". Nervous, rhythmic & urgent. Metal band.
