Quand au bout d'huit jours, le r'pos terminé,
On va r'prendre les tranchées,
Notre place est si utile
Que sans nous on prend la pile.
Mais c'est bien fini, on en a assez,
Personn' ne veut plus marcher,
Et le cœur bien gros, comm' dans un sanglot
On dit adieu aux civ'lots.
Même sans tambour, même sans trompette,
On s'en va là-haut en baissant la tête.
Adieu la vie, adieu l'amour,
Adieu toutes les femmes.
C'est bien fini, c'est pour toujours,
De cette guerre infâme.
C'est à Craonne, sur le plateau,
Qu'on doit laisser sa peau
Car nous sommes tous condamnés
Nous sommes les sacrifiés
!Huit jours de tranchées, huit jours de souffrance,
Pourtant on a l'espérance
Que ce soir viendra la r'lève
Que nous attendons sans trêve.
Soudain, dans la nuit et dans le silence,
On voit quelqu'un qui s'avance,
C'est un officier de chasseurs à pied,
Qui vient pour nous remplacer.
Doucement dans l'ombre, sous la pluie qui tombe
Les petits chasseurs vont chercher leurs tombes.

English translation :
Craonne Song
When at the end of a week's leaveWe go back to the trenches,
Our place there is so usefulThat without us we'd get a thrashing.But now it’s finished we've had enoughNobody wants to march anymore.And with hearts downcast with sobs,We're saying good-bye to the civilians,
Even without drum or trumpetWe're heading up there with lowered heads.
Good-bye to life, good-bye to love,
Good-bye to all you women,
It's finished, and foreverwe've had it for good with this awful war.It's in Craonne up on the plateau
That we're leaving our skins,'Cause we've all been sentenced to die.
We're the ones that they're sacrificing
A week in the trenches, a week of suffering,
And yet we still have hopeThat tonight the relief will come
That we keep waiting for.Suddenly in the silent night
We hear someone approachIt's an infantry officer
Who's coming to take over from us.
Quietly in the shadows as the rain fallsThe poor soldiers go in search of their graves
Those who’ve got the dough, they will come back'Cause it's for them that we're dying.
Now it’s finished, 'cause all us poor soldiers
Are going to go on strike.
It'll be your turn, fat cats,
To go up onto the plateau.
And if you want war,
Then pay for it with your own skins.
On the grand boulevards it's hard to watch
All the fat cats whooping it up
For them life is good
But for us it's not the same
Instead of hiding, all these shirkers
Would do better by going up to the trenches
To defend what they have, because we have nothing
All of us poor wretches
All our comrades are buried there
Defending the wealth of these gentlemen here

You never look up to the sky above It’s surely here oh only your fault Said...That time goes by nowYou always like to say that is all grey Complaining never helped anyway Makin’...
Mmmh Big changes...
‘Cause if you lift your head a bit more
You will see how beautiful this world can be whenever you get sad and lonely Just open your eyes...Walking down the street!Walking down the street, by walking
Don’t loose time on things that would hurt you Looking forward’s better for you
Never...
Let that time go nowIt’s up to you to chase all the blues Nobody’s gonna do it for you
Let it..
Shine through

Tu dicevi troppe coseCanzoni tinte di roseParole grazioseOh baby oh baby oh
Parlava di poesieRose c'est la vieIl cielo è sceso quiOh baby oh baby oh
Bevevo dai suoi vetriCosì grandi, così verdi e tetriI suoi nudi celibiCosì grandi, severi e mobiliIn te
Scese quindi la mia sposaIncompresa fu la rosaCome ogni altra cosaOh baby oh baby oh
Tu dicevi troppe coseCanzoni tinte di roseParole grazioseOh baby oh baby oh
Parlava di poesieRose c'est la vieIl cielo è sceso quiOh baby oh baby oh
Bevevo dai suoi vetriCosì grandi, così verdi e tetriI suoi nudi celibiCosì grandi, severi e mobiliIn te
Scese quindi la mia sposaIncompresa fu la rosaCome ogni altra cosaOh baby oh baby oh