2019.01.13.
Children of Brittany
They sanked to the bottom,The brother, the husband, the son, the father.
The burden is held
By the sister, the wife, the daughter, the mother.
[Chorus]
Baling, balaoñ, baling, balaoñ,
Baling, balaoñ, my mother is sick.
Baling, balaoñ, baling, balaoñ,
Baling, balaoñ, baling, balaoñ,
Baling, balaoñ, my country is sick.
The girl is gone,
Her hairdress on her head, a world in her bag.
She went down, down,
To become a maid, whore or lady.
They went to the war,
Kissed a picture just before dying.
How many in the world, how many have been bowing their heads down,
And lost their honor, their blood because they were too polite?
They went to the city
To learn the words of the foreigner who said them they were swine.
They've been nice, obedient, burning with shame,
So that they swallowed, puked, shit their language.
They went to the city
The lick the ass of the foreigner who told them they were shit.
Changed clothes, changed mouth,
And proud as peacocks to hold the tricolor flag.
The children of Brittany are sleeping soundly,
By whom the hell have they been sunkto the bottom?
On the hull there are plenty of marks,
But the big ones are strong, no one will say anything.
But the big ones are strong, no one will breathe a word.