LI RWÈ DÈL ROWE D'ERQUY   [EN]
Elmore D

Dji m' prézinte,
Dji so l'årtisse.
Ine saquî m'a dit îr :
«N'a nou risse!
T'as 'ne vwès d' fåssèt,
Ti clapes treûs-acwérds
So on hèrvê d' guitåre di fiér.»

Qu'ènn'a-dj' di keûr?
E m' cårtî, dji so li rwè
Dè l' rowe d'Erquy.

Dj'aveû scrît ine tchanson
Qui dj' trovéve trisse.
Po sûre mi vocåcion, dj'ènnè fa on disse
Qui dj' tchoûkîve à tos mès vwèzins
Qu'èl rivindît l' lèd'dimin.

On producteûr m'a dit :
«T'ès bon po l' sinne.
Ti djowes po treûs mèye djins à l' saminne.
Avou tès-êrs à l' va-s'-mèl-qwîr,
Ti pous fé l' Festival du Rire.»
THE KING OF ERQUY STREET

[EN] THE KING OF ERQUY STREET

Let me introduce myself,
l'm the artist.
Somebody told me yesterday:
'Sure enough
Your voice is shrill
You slap three chords
On a wasted steel-guitar.'

I dont care.
In my neighbourhood,
I'm the king of Erquy Street.

I had written a song
Supposed to be sad.
To make my way, I made a CD
That I forced on my neighbours
Who sold it on the day alter.

A producer told me:
'You're ready for the stage.
You will play for 3000 people next week.
With your sloppy manners,
You can do the Festival of Fool.'