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The Gale
Gosh it’s a big one,
The wind that knocks on the door,
But if you go to open it,
The wind turns its butt around.
The wind, the wind,
The wind that goes that comes,
The wind, the wind
Is never content.
Wind from the north, tears holes in shirts,
Windstorm from the south for drying things out
It fills the heart, it dries the tears
It carries the pains of lovers.
Heartbreak is a sickness,
Which the doctor can’t cure.
Didn’t even hurt, didn’t even hurt,
Didn’t even hurt, didn’t even hurt.
What can’t stop itself?
It’s the gale, the gale
What can’t stop itself?
It’s the gale, let it pass.
But if you stop it, it’ll kick the bucket
It’s the gale, it’s the gale,
But if you stop it, it’ll kick the bucket,
It’s the gale, let it pass.
Gosh it’s a big one,
The wind that knocks on the door,
But if you go to open it,
The wind turns its butt around.
The wind, the wind,
The wind that goes that comes,
The wind, the wind
Is never content.
The wind of the red dawn,
Is married to the rain,
It doesn’t have flesh or bones
It’s going off to run in the woods.
Wind rains, wind rains,
To drink is what I want.
Wind rains, wind rains,
To drink is what I want.
It brings the news
from Radio Chatterbox,
Good news or bad,
Vinegar or white wine:
Monsieur le Curé from Lanneplaà,
Every time he’s full, he sings.
Monsieur le Curé from Sent Cristau,
He pees in bed and says it’s raining.
The price of wine has totally dropped
My wife had a baby…
The wind, the wind,
The wind that goes that comes,
The wind, the wind
Is never content. [x3]
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