The Codicil Lyrics – Pierre de Gaillande
Singer: Pierre de Gaillande
Title: The Codicil
Lady Death holds a grudge who just won’t let me be
For planting flowers in her nose she chases me
Like a relentless imbecile
And since my better days have almost all been spent
I found it wise to revise my last testament
And give myself a codicil
Deep into the seas ink the golf of deepest blue
Deep deep your feather quill my cleric tried and true
Inscribe this last supplication
Take note of what which will become of my body
When my soul and he can only seem to agree
On one issue : separation
When my soul takes its flight into the horizon
To join those other hapless of singing denizens
All of those Titis and Grisettes
Please carry my body back to my native land
Sleeping Paris to Mediterranean
End of the line to beach of Sète
Alas my family plot is really not so new
It’s swollen as it tick if i may be so crude
And to hope for a vacant seat
It’s a lost cause it’s not happening very soon
And I can’t really ask these fine folks to “make room
For the young people” so they speak
Right on a water’s edge two steps from the Blue Sea
Please dig a cosy little hole for me
A perfect little sandy niche
Next to the dolphin’s dear childhood friends of mine
Upon this gentle slope where the sand is so fine
On the beach they call “La Corniche”
It’s a beach where even at his most furious
Neptune can never really be too serious
Or when a shipwreck is in store
The Captain yells “I am the pilot of this crew
The whining pastis first! You all know what to do
One bottle per men over board
And it was here that when i reached my fifteen years
The age when playing by yourself turns slightly weird
When romance first made itself known
From a lovely mermaid half fish and half women
I learned all about love i got my first lesson
And choke upon my first fish bone
I offered difference towards Paul Valery
A humble troubadour offer my fealty
Made the Lord grant me his pardon
And even if his verses are worth more than mine
Made my grave be just a little more meritain
No offence to the native sons
This tomb sandwich between the sky and the Blue Sea
Will not cast any somber shadow on the scene
It will be oddly beautiful
Ladies will use it as a shelter when they change
Out of their bathing suits and children will exclaim
“Oh goody here’s a sand castle”
In it to much to ask upon my little mound
To please plant a pin tree like the ones all around
The kind that makes a little shame
That gives protection from the sun in bathing waves
From my good friends come to my final resting place
To offer tender accolades
When they coming from Spain the next from Italy
Replete with sweet perfume and tender melodies
The mistral and the tramontane
Upon my final sleep will pour down the echoes
Of villanelle’s one day the next fandangos
Of tarentelles and sardaignes
And when using my sandy mount to rest her head
A napping nymph-ant lies upon my funeral bed
With little less than nothing on
I ask forgiveness from Jesus ahead of time
If the shade of my cross slightly crosses the line
For a little posthumous fun
Poor mighty feral King, Ô poor Napoleon
Ashes of consequence stuck in the Pantheon
Rulers of empire and nation
You’ll always envy this eternal submarine
This dreamer on the waves forever slummer wind
Who spends his death on vacation
You’ll always envy this eternal submarine
This dreamer on the waves forever slummer wind
Who spends his death on vacation
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Lyrics Pierre de Gaillande – The Codicil
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