Vive l`Amour - Bonsoir, Catin

Vive l’Amour
Je m’en irai voir mon aimable brune
Mais je sais pas si je l’aurai
Oui, je l’aurai quoi-ce qu’elle me coûte
Quoi que ses parents lui en dégoûtent
Vive le vin, vive l’amour
Vivent les filles à la nuit comme le jour
Viens avec moi, mon aimable brune
Viens avec moi dans mon jardin
Nous commencerons une salade
Aux artichauds, à la poivrade
Vive le vin, vive l’amour
Vivent les filles à la nuit comme le jour
Oh, si l’amour prendrait racine
J’en planterais dans mon jardin
J’en planterais aussi long et aussi large
Je ferais part à tous mes camarades.
Vive le vin, vive l’amour
Vivent les filles à la nuit comme le jour
•••••
I will go to see my lovely brunette
But I don’t know if I will have her
Yes, I’ll have her whatever the cost
Though her family may try to dissuade her
Long live wine, long live love
Long live girls in the night as well as the day
Come with me, my lovely brunette
Come with me in my garden
We’ll start a salad
Of artichokes and pepper dressing
Long live wine, long live love
Long live girls in the night as well as the day
Oh if love were to take root
I would plant some in my garden
I would plant some far and wide
I would share it with all of my friends.
Long live wine, long live love
Long live girls in the night as well as the day
Mon Aimable Brune (Traditional, Arranged by
Kristi Guillory and Dirk Powell, Bassette Music,
BMI/ Crying Bayou Music, BMI)
We learned this song from an Elizabeth
Brandon field recording from the 1950s of a
New Iberia woman named Selena Guidry.
Keeping with the intended traditions of all
drinking songs, we recorded a portion of this
song live at the Blue Moon Saloon in Lafayette
with all of our friends singing along with us.
You can even hear the glass breaking as folks
banged their bottles together.
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‘73 Special
Eh, bébé je suis ici moi toute seule
Quoi faire toi tu t’en viens pas
Pour me rejoindre au ’73
Eh, bébé tu connais, mais j’aime danser
J’aime danser avec toi
Ouais là-bas au ‘73
Eh bébé la musique est aussi bonne
Et la bière aussi froide
Oh chère mais t’es pas là.
Eh, bébé moi j’aimerais que tu t’en viens
Pour me rejoindre et danser
Ouais là-bas au ‘73
•••••
Hey, baby I’m here all alone
Why don’t you come
And join me at the 73?
Hey, baby, you know I like to dance
I like to dance with you
At the 73.
Hey, baby the music is so good
And the beer so cold
But, dear, you’re not there.
Hey, baby I would like for you to come
To meet me and to dance
Over there at 73.
(Floyd Soileau, Flat Town Music Co., BMI)
We all remember those dimly lit smoky
dancehalls that used to pepper the
countrysides in South Louisiana. Paying
homage to our roots, we just had to include a
kick-hard dancehall tune. This song calls to
mind beer signs and wooden dance floors,
plywood bathroom doors and burgers for sale
in the corner. We were lucky enough to have
Geno Delafose join us on drums for this cut.
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J’Aimerais Sentir
Comme Ça Chez Moi/
I Wish I Felt This
Way at Home
Si, moi, je pourrai vivre avec toi pour toujours
Mon coeur farouche va jamais vouloir trainer
Je n’etais jamais aimée comme tu m’aimes
J’aimerais sentir comme ça chez moi.
Quand tu m’embrasses, c’est des mots silents
Et je crois pas que Dieu va dire qu’on a pas de raison
Dans tes bras, c’est le refuge que j’étais après chercher
J’aimerais sentir comme ça chez moi
Mais je peux pas, et je vas pas
On a fait tout ce qu’on pourrait
Nous autres on a essayé
Tu connais que c’est pas vrai
Je vas jamais avoir de la liberté
Et tu vas pas espérer pour moi pour si long
Mais je vas te dire une autre fois quand je suis après partir
J’aimerais sentir comme ça chez moi
•••••
If I could be with you forever
My restless heart would never want to roam
I’ve never been loved the way you love me
I wish I felt this way at home
When you touch me it’s words without speaking
And I don’t think that God would call this wrong
In your arms, it’s the refuge I’ve been seeking
I wish I felt this way at home
But I can’t and I won’t
We did all that we could
We tried so hard
But it’s just no good
I’ll never be free
And you can’t wait for me that long
But I’ll say one more time as I’m leaving
I wish I felt this way at home
(Harlan Howard, Bassette Music, BMI)
It’s no secret that Kristi’s been a Dolly Parton
fan since she was a little girl. Dolly cut this
Harlan Howard song in the late sixties and
Kristi learned it off of an old LP she bought at
Goodwill. Once translated into Cajun French, it
seemed to be the perfect nod to Cajun
musicians like Belton Richard and Johnny
Sonnier who liked to sing the current and past
country hits of the time in their native tongue.
The Catins took this model a little further and
turned the song into a duet, featuring Cajun
Country crooner, Courtney Granger.
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Un Bouquet de Camélias
La mort, la mort cruelle et sans pitiée
Qu’a arraché ton coeur et tout tes chers baisers
Ma chère amante, mon cher bébé
Prendre au ciel, mes amitiés pour te garder
Tu n’as qu’un élan à passer parmi nous
Un bouquet de camélias orné la table autour
Ma chère amante, à ton lit on a pleuré
Prendre au ciel nos prières pour te garder
A ton dernier soupir, ces fleurs je vas te rapporter
Je suis venu les passer sur ton coeur qui vient de cesser
Ma chère amante, mon cher bébé
Prendre au ciel ces fleurs que je t’ai données
Ils vont t’accompagner au tombeau mouillé
Des pleurs amers de ceux qui t’aimaient
Ma chère amante, ils te suivront dans la terre
Tu pourras les porter pendant ton grand voyage au ciel
•••••
Death, death cruel and without pity
That stole away your heart and dear kisses
My dear love, my dear bébé
Take to the heavens my love to guide you
You only have a short time to be among us
A bouquet of camellias is on the table around you
My dear love, at your bedside we cried
Take to the heavens our prayers to guide you
At your last breath, I will bring these flowers to you
I’ve come to pass them upon your heart that just stopped
beating.
My dear love, my dear bébé
Take to the heavens these flowers that I’ve given to you
They will accompany you into the tomb wet
With the bitter tears that are cried by those who loved you
My dear love, they will follow you into the ground
You can carry them on your long journey into heaven
(Kristi Guillory, Bassette Music, BMI)
Yvette’s paternal great-grandfather wrote a
letter to his dying daughter expressing his
consuming grief at her passing. The young girl
would give him camellias for his birthday, so
upon her death he presented her with a
bouquet of camellias on her deathbed. Yvette
passed Kristi a copy of the letter and what
transpired became a beautiful lament.
When the Catins went in to cut this track it was
a particularly cloudy Sunday afternoon in
Parks. Menacing rain clouds lined the sky.
When we began recording, the heavens
opened up into a violent thunderstorm. Every
time Kristi would begin to sing, the thunder
would roar and she would become too
emotional to get through the take. After
gaining some composure we began to roll
again but we lost power…and the cut…three
times. Dirk had the insight to open the studio
doors and allow the spirits of Yvette’s
ancestors to join us. With them they brought
the sounds of rolling thunder and summer
rain. We believe they are pleased with the
final product.
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Donne-moi une autre chance
Donne-moi, donne-moi une autre chance
Comment moi, je vas vivre
J’ai cassé ton coeur.
Asteur c’est le mien qu’est après se casser
Oh, moi j’ai du regret
Et je souhaite que t’aperçois
Je vas faire n’importe quoi pour tu me pardonnes
S’il vous plaît, donne-moi une autre chance
Eh, tite fille t’es après rouler
T’es après rouler les tits chemins croches
Tu connais ça casse mon coeur
S’il vous plaît, donne-moi une autre chance
•••••
Give me, give me another chance.
How will I live
I broke your heart
Now it’s mine that is breaking
Oh, I have regrets
And I hope you realize
That I’ll do anything for you to forgive me
Please give me another chance
Hey, little girl you’re running around
Running all the old crooked roads
You know that breaks my heart
Please, give me another chance
(Belton Richard, Flat Town Music Co., BMI)
Let’s just say that Belton Richard’s bellyrubbing songs make the Catins go wild. We
recorded this song twelve times very early in
the morning, not because we couldn’t find the
groove but because we just couldn’t stop. And
Dirk Powell just kept rolling the tape and
egging us on.
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Je Suis Pas Après Chercher
Je suis pas après chercher pour un mari
Non pas quelqu’un pour me soigner
Juste quelqu’un pour me tenir un élan
Et peut-être m’acheter un whiskey
Hier au soir je t’ai vu dans ce bar
Avec une fille mignonne et si jeune
Tu semblais si miserable, tu veux trouver une autre femme
Mais, cher guette pas à moi
Ils sont après jouer la Dernière Fois
Et le bal est proche cassé
Je peux quitter avec toi et passer le soir
Mais, cher tu connais je vas pas rester
Demain matin, moi, je serai gone
Et tu vas dire à tous tes amis
Que t’as trouvé la femme pour laver tes linges
Et élever tes enfants
•••••
I’m not looking for a husband
Nor someone to take care of me
Just someone to hold me for a while
And maybe buy me a whiskey
Last night I saw you in this bar
With a cute, young girl
You looked so miserable, you want to find another wife
But, honey don’t look at me
They are playing la Dernier Fois
And the dance is almost over
I can leave with you and spend the night
But, honey you know I won’t stay
Tomorrow morning I’ll be gone
And you will tell all of your friends
That you found the woman to wash your clothes
And raise your kids
But I’m not looking for a husband
Nor someone to take care of me
Just someone to hold me for a while
And maybe buy me a whiskey
(Kristi Guillory, Bassette Music, BMI)
There are just too few Cajun songs written for
women. This song was inspired by many of our
female friends and fans. Sorry guys.
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Orphan Waltz
Quand j’étais un tit garcon à l’age de neuf ans
Je m’ai reveillé un matin sur le bonjour
Assis tout autour de mon lit la famille de ma maman
Ils m’ont dit que ma maman est après partir
Mais assis sur mon oreiller, un orphelin que moi j’étais
J’ai guetté les chandelles après brûler
Dans la nuit quand tu dormais dedans
le ciel ils l’ont appellée
Elle a quitté son tit garçon dessus la terre
La maman de mon papa fut aimable et bien capable.
Il a dit, “ Je vas te laisser le tit garçon.”
Aujourd’hui dedans le ciel, elle que moi j’aime
autant est après poser,
Est après poser en esperant le tit garçon.
•••••
When I was a little boy at the age of nine
I woke up one morning
Sitting around my bed was my mother’s family
They told me that my mother was leaving
Sitting on my pillow, an orphan like I was
I saw the candles burning
During the night while I was sleeping,
into the heavens they called her
She left her little boy on the Earth
My father’s mother was kind and capable
He said, “I’ll leave the little boy to you.”
Today the one that I loved so much sits in heaven
Waiting for her little boy
(Alex Broussard, La Lou Music, BMI)
We learned this song from a recording of Alex
Broussard. There are quite a few Cajun songs
about being orphaned but the imagery of this
one seemed even more haunting than most.
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Listen To Me
When I Talk To You
Tu traines les chemins proche tout les soirs
Toute la journée t’es ’après dormir
Quand le monde se lêve toi t’es après te coucher
Écoute-moi bien, porte attention, moi je veux te parler
Si moi je serais toi, je changerais ma vie
Essaye de réveiller quand le soleil se lêve
Toi t’es après réveiller après le soleil se coucher
Comme on dit en anglais, “Listen to me when I talk to you.”
Il y a un tas des choses tu peux pas faire le soir
Tu pourras voir à la clarté du jour
T’es après manquer la moitié de ta vie
Écoute-moi bien porte attention moi,
Je suis après te parler
Quand tu vas te saouler, il faut que ça va te ramener
Quand tu te réveilles, t’es bien malade
T’as pas de l’avenir dedans ta vie
Comme on dit en anglais, “Listen to me when I talk to you.”
•••••
You run the roads almost every night
You sleep all day long
When everybody is waking up you’re going to sleep
Listen close to me, pay attention, I want to talk to you
If I were you, I’d change my life
And try to wake when the sun comes up
You wake up when the sun is setting
Like they say in English, “Listen to me. I’m talking to you.”
There’s a lot of things you can’t do at night
If you want to have clarity during the daytime
You’re missing most of your life
Listen close to me, pay attention, I’m talking to you
When you go and get drunk, they have to bring you back
When you wake up, you’re really sick
You have no future in your life
Like they say in English, “Listen to me. I’m talking to you.”
(D.L. Menard, Flat Town Music, BMI)
One afternoon at the Dewey Balfa Cajun and
Creole Heritage Week in Chicot State Park D.L.
Menard joined us for a workshop
performance. He sang many songs and told
many stories. When he broke into this song,
Christine fell in love with it and looked at us
from across tent with a smirk. We knew we
just had to record it. Jude plays a cardboard
box on this cut with the lope that only a real
cowboy could understand.
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Si Je Pourrais Oublier
Si je pourrais oublier comment gros je t’aime
Si je pourrais oublier comment j’ai du regret
Si je pourrais oublier comment toi t’étais tous le miens
Peut être je pourrais dormir quand je me couche
Si je pourrais oublier quoi tu m’as fait
Si je pourrais oublier quoi tu m’as dit
Si je pourrais oublier quoi tu m’as fait quand j’étais pas là
Peut être je pourrais dormir quand je me couche
Si je pourrais oublier tout les promesses
Tu m’as dit il y a pas longtemps passé
Si je pourrais oublier comment gros je m’ennuie de toi
Peut être je pourrais dormir quand je me couche
Si je pourrais oublier la première fois
J’ai regardé dedans tes chers tits yeux
Si je pourrais oublier toutes les belles
choses qu’on faisait ensemble
Peut être je pourrais dormir quand je me couche
•••••
If I could forget how much I love you
If I could forget how much I regret
If I could forget how you were all mine once
Maybe I could sleep at night
If I could forget what you did
If I could forget what you said
If I could forget what you did to me when I wasn’t there
Maybe I could sleep at night
If I could forget all of the promises
You told me not long ago
If I could forget how much I miss you
Maybe I could sleep at night
If I could forget the first time
I looked into your dear eyes
If I could forget all the beautiful things we did together
Maybe I could sleep at night
(Pierre Varmon Daigle, Chere Aline Music,
BMI/ Flat Town Music Co., BMI)
Pierre Varmon Daigle is one of the best Cajun
songwriters. His lyrics are always simple,
honest and heartfelt. We were reminded of
this beautiful song after seeing a performance
of Lesa Cormier and the Sundown Playboys at
The Liberty Theater in the late 1980s. Richard
Comeau joins us on steel guitar on this
heartbreaking waltz.
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Black Cat Bone
I believe to my soul my baby got a black cat bone
Tried to love you I just can’t leave it alone
Come on baby tell me what you’re trying to do
Trying to love me baby and some other woman too
Oh bow down baby weep like a willow tree
You know it feels so good when a man make love to me
Hold me baby hold me in your arms
Won’t you love me baby ‘till this good woman comes
Come on baby tell me what a good woman do
Come on baby tell me what you want me to do
I did everything trying to love a man like you
(Traditional, Arranged by Bonsoir, Catin,
Bassette Music, BMI)
Yvette learned to sing this song after spending
a week singing with Ginny Hawker and Tracy
Schwartz. Ginny basically said, ‘Yvette, you
WILL sing this song.” And we’re glad she did.
Reuben’s Train
Oh, Reuben rode a train from Boston to Rayne
You could hear that whistle blow a hundred miles
Oh me, Oh Lordy my
You could hear that whistle blow a hundred miles
I’ve been to the East. I’ve been to the West
I’m going where those chilly winds don’t blow
Oh me, Oh Lordy my
I’m going where those chilly winds don’t blow
You wouldn’t roll so slow if you knew what Reuben know
I’m nine hundred miles away from
Away from home, away from home
I’m nine hundred miles away from home
(Traditional, Bassette Music, BMI)
Anya came to us from the Old Time fiddling
tradition. Cajun musicians and Old Time
players seem to fit together very well. It’s a
relationship that’s been growing since the
sixties. Through our travels we’ve met so may
warm and generous people from that crowd
and are lucky to have so many of them come
down and visit us here. Many of them have
come to stay. Dirk cements this song with the
banjo and Anya modified some of the lyrics to
make it a little more ‘local.’
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Si Je Pourrais Oublier
Il y a une tite fille. Elle reste au village
Son vieux père va pus me quitter la voir
Quoi c’est il y a avec le moulin?
Il est cassé
Le moulin, il est cassé. Il y a pus de moulure ici
Un vieux homme après faire l’amour
Une qui dit, “Ton temps et court.”
Quoi c’est il y a avec le moulin?
Il est cassé
Le moulin, il est cassé. Il y a plus de moulure ici
Une tite fille était jolie
C’est dommage quelqu’un l’a pris
Quoi c’est il y a avec le moulin?
Il est cassé
Le moulin, il est cassé. Il y a plus de moulure ici
Deux vieilles femmes couchées dans le lit
Une qui tombe et l’autre qui dit
Quoi c’est il y a avec le moulin?
Il est cassé
Le moulin, il est cassé. Il y a plus de moulure ici
•••••
There’s a little girl. She lives in town
Her old father won’t let me see her anymore
What’s wrong with the windmill?
It’s broken
The windmill is broken. There’s no more grist here
An old man making love
Someone says, “Your time’s cut short.”
What’s wrong with the windmill?
It’s broken
The windmill is broken. There’s no more grist here
That little girl was so pretty
Too bad someone took her
What’s wrong with the windmill?
It’s broken
(Adam Hebert, Flat Town Music Co., BMI)
Uh-oh.
The windmill is broken. There’s no more grist here
Two old ladies sleeping in bed
One of them fell and the other one said
What’s wrong with the windmill?
It’s broken
The windmill is broken. There’s no more grist here
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