Lyr Add: Pauvre Soldat

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Pauvre Soldat
From: Alan of Australia
Date: 14 Nov 99 - 03:12 AM

G'day,
Thanks to Malcolm there is a MIDI file at the Mudcat MIDI site

Cheers,
Alan

Subject: Pauvre Soldat
From: Malcolm Douglas
Date: 14 Nov 99 - 12:48 AM

Perhaps it's time for some more French songs. Here's one now.

Pauvre Soldat

Pauvre soldat, revient de guerre
Pauvre soldat, revient de guerre
Mal équipé, tout mal vêtu
Pauvre soldat, d'ou reviens-tu?

S'en vint trouver Dame l'Hotesse (x2)
Qu'on apporte ici du vin blanc
Que le soldat boit en passant.

Pauvre soldat se mit à boire (x2)
Se mit à boire et à chanter
La belle se mit à pleurer.

Qu'avez-vous donc, Dame l'Hotesse? (x2)
Regrettez-vous votre vin blanc
Que le soldat boit en passant?

C'est pas mon vin que je regrette (x2)
Mais c'est la mort de mon mari;
Monsieur, vous ressemblez à lui.

Mais dites-moi, Dame l'Hotesse (x2)
Vous aviez de lui trois enfants
En voila quatre z-a présent.

J'ai tant recu de tristes lettres (x2)
Qu'il était mort et enterré
Que je me suis remariée.

Pauvre soldat finit son verre (x2)
Sans remercier, tout en pleurant
Se retourna au regiment.

This I learnt from Solange Romestant of Aix-En-Provence in 1975; she had the melody from her grandmother, who came from a small village in the Ardèche. The text is probably a mix of better-known versions -it's a fairly widespread song. It translates roughly as:

Poor soldier, returning from the war/ badly kitted out, badly dressed/ Poor soldier, where have you been?

He's gone to find the landlady/ "Bring me some white wine/ so that the poor soldier may drink as he passes."

The poor soldier starts drinking/ Starts drinking and singing/ The beautiful (woman) begins to cry.

"What's the matter, then, Madam landlady?/ Are you sad for your white wine/ That the soldier drinks as he passes?"

"It's not my wine that I'm upset about/ It's the death of my husband/ You, sir, look a lot like him."

"But tell me, Madam landlady/ Didn't you and he have three children?/ There are four here."

"I had so many sad letters/ That he was dead and buried/ That I got married again."

The poor soldier finished his glass/ Without saying thankyou, crying all the while/ Went back to the regiment.

The tune is simple, but rather pretty. I'll send it to the midi site.

Malcolm