Lord life is cruel
For the street musician
His friend his companion
Is the acordeon
Who is it that helps him to live
To sit down when he's drunk
Is it you, is it me, well no
Its the accordeon
give him, give him
give him then
The alms of the tuned
They're close friends
And when you speak to them
He accompanies on the violin
His accordeon
He spends a quiet night
And then in the morning he gives back
A little air in the lungs
Of the accordeon
When on occasion he massacres
Its little buttons in mother-of-pearl
He steals some from his jacket
For the accordeon
He borrows from his suspenders
To shake the threads
That hold up his pants
Like an accordeon
But one day from exhaustion
He'll let loneliness
Take aim
At the accordeon
And he'll get fifty 
Cents from the pawn shop
And no one will pay any more attention
To the accordeon
Dieu que la vie est cruelle
Au musicien des ruelles
Son copain son compagnon
C'est l'accordéon
Qui c'est-y qui l'aide à vivre
A s'asseoir quand il s'enivre
C'est-y vous, c'est moi, mais non
C'est l'accordéon
Accordez, accordez
accordez donc
L'aumône à l'accordé
Ils sont comme cul et chemise
Et quand on les verbalise
Il accompagne au violon
Son accordéon
Il passe une nuit tranquille
Puis au matin il refile
Un peu d'air dans les poumons
De l'accordéon
Quand parfois il lui massacre
Ses petits boutons de nacre
Il en fauche à son veston
Pour l'accordéon
Lui, emprunte ses bretelles
Pour secourir la ficelle
Qui retient ses pantalons
En accordéon  
Mais un jour par lassitude
Il laissera la solitude
Se pointer à l'horizon
De l'accordéon
Il en tirera cinquante
Centimes à la brocante
Et on fera plus attention
A l'accordéon

English translation ©2007 Alex Chabot