[Walloon lyrics] [English translation]
Poqwè n’ so-dje nin
Li ci qu’ t’inmes seûl’mint?
Dji lî rèpètéve si sovint.
«On vik’reût tot seûs,
On d’meûrreût nos deûs.
Fåt-i tant cori po-z-èsse ureûs?»
Dj’èl ratindéve : à fwèce di rôler
Tote nut’ èll’a rèscontré Roger.
C’è-st-ine bouhale,
I n’inme qui l’ football.
Assuré:
Ele va morfler.
C’èst bièsse à dire:
Dji n’èl pou roûvî.
C’èst si målåhèye di n’ nin r’vèyî
Totes sôrts di moumints,
Dès djèsses èt dès djins,
Dès-afêres qui n’ si racontèt nin.
Adon dj’a pris in-êr dè vîx timps
Et di’ li a fêt on dièrin prézint.
Mins dji n’ djeûre nin,
S’èle riv’néve dimin,
Qu’ dj’èl djow’reû
Por lèye seûl’mint.
Why am I not
The only one you love?
I told her so many times.
‘We could live alone,
Just the two of us.
Is it so hard to be happy?’
I was expecting that: she messed around
So much that she met Roger.
He’s dumb,
He just likes football.
The writing’s on the wall:
She’s gonna be thrashed.
It’s silly:
I can’t forget her.
It’s so difficult not to see
All sorts of old moments,
Gestures and people,
Things you cannot guess.
So, I took this old song
And I made her a last gift.
But I don’t promise
That, if she tomes home,
She would be the only one
For whom I would play.
Appears on Saturday Night Rub, Intégrale cåzî complète