Partitions
Get Back
Rosetta (who are you talking about?)Sweet Loretta Fart, she thought she was a cleanerBut she was a frying pan (Sweet Rosetta Martin, Rosetta)The picker, the picker!Picture the fingers burning! (Ooh)OKJojo was a man who thought he was a lonerBut he knew it couldn’t lastJojo left his home in Tucson, ArizonaFor some California grassGet back, get
The House of the Rising Sun
Version Anglaise There is a house in New OrleansThey call the Rising SunAnd it’s been the ruin of many a poor boyAnd God, I know I’m one My mother was a tailorShe sewed my new blue jeansMy father was a gamblin’ manDown in New Orleans Now the only thing a gambler needsIs a suitcase and
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Here Comes the Sun
Here comes the sun do, do, doHere comes the sunAnd I say it’s all right Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winterLittle darling, it seems like years since it’s been here Here comes the sun do, do, doHere comes the sunAnd I say it’s all right Little darling, the smiles returning to the
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Mrs Robinson
And here’s to you, Mrs. RobinsonJesus loves you more than you will know, oh oh oh.God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson.Heaven holds a place for those who pray, hey hey hey, hey hey hey.We’d like to know a little bit about you for our files.We’d like to help you learn to help yourself.Look around you,
A Ma Place
Serait–elle à ma placePlus forte qu’un hommeAu bout de ces impassesOù elle m’abandonneVivre l’enferMourir au combatFaut-il pour lui plaireAller jusque làSe peut-il que j’y parvienneSe peut-il qu’on nous pardonneSe peut-il qu’on nous aimePour ce que nous sommes Se met-il à ma placeQuelquefoisQuand mes ailes se froissentEt mes îles se noientJe plie sous le poidsPlie sous
I Love Rock’n Roll
I saw him dancin’ there by the record machineI knew he must a been about seventeenThe beat was goin’ strongPlayin’ my favorite songAnd I could tell it wouldn’t be long‘Til he was with me, yeah, meAnd I could tell it wouldn’t be long‘Til he was with me, yeah, me, singin’I love rock n’ rollSo put
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Pendant que les Champs Brûlent
Des arbres se penchentC’est plus fort, plus fort que toutAccrochée aux branchesL’air me semble encore trop doux Dans l’herbe écrasée, à compter mes regretsAllumette craquée et tout part en fumée Pendant que les champs brûlentJ’attends que mes larmes viennentEt quand la plaine onduleQue jamais rien ne m’atteigne Ce soir-là on s’est embrassés sans se parlerAutour
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