La ballade de Willy Brouillard [English translation]

It's night on the council estate,

Willy finally opens his eyes.

He'd hit the sack at dawn,

maybe a bit wasted.

He gets up, has a wash, togs up,

his jacket and his shooter.

He's hungover, oh well,

there he goes.

Night patrol

in the dark alleyways.

Odd life

for Willy Fog the cop.

Scrap at the Acrobat,

not good, I'll go a bit later.

I can't measure up all alone without my buds

and I don't have my cuffs.

To the Intermarché*;

last night, they sacked it.

Nothing to report, everything's quiet,

nothing's burning.

Night patrol

in the middle of savages.

Odd life

for Willy Fog the cop.

When he was a kid, he wanted to be

a park guard like his grand-father,

wanted to live surrounded by kiddoes,

to protect lawns and sparrows.

Well, he lives surrounded by concrete

in the middle of a stupid jungle.

He protects the State, the bosses,

those who dump dope on rascals

Why did he choose

law, not the bandits?

Why did his old man disinherit him

when he'd signed?

He's never hurt a fly,

even a black one, a fishy one.

Out of two evils he's chosen

the one which gets him to eat.

Night patrol

under the wan neons.

Odd life

for Willy Fog the cop.

Hell, we're not gonna cry,

some people are even more lost.

I'd be damned if I was to make a song

to the glory of a cop.

It'd be a topsy-turvy world,

the bottom of misery.

Can we even make music

out of a cop's life?

• Artist:Renaud
• Album:À la Belle de Mai (1994)