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Cute Twins Of Fashion

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    Cute Twins Of Fashion too But don’t mention that tipple It sends our heads spinning Titine was an old soak who sold her soul for a pint of gin It’s my morphine, it’s my coke It’s my own little vice Take a bit of baccy in your fingers And roll it up It’s strong, it’s acrid like wood It intoxicates you It’s good and it leaves a strange taste Of blood, love and disgust in your mouth I won’t go on. You can ask me to sing another. That one’s really pretty. When is it from? Oh, it’s very old. From before . Way before! I first heard it sung when I was or . It takes me back. It’s an old song. What happened in ‘? It was like this but less violent. We occupied the factories too. Nobody worked. We stopped the motors. When those who wanted to work saw it was useless, everybody but everybody stopped. Just like that? No. It took two days for the factory to stop completely. It was at a standstill. Did you switch off the machines? No. We stopped the motor at the entrance to the room. If anyone wanted to work, we stopped the motors. There were less and less, and after two days game everybody had downed tools. There were picket lines. We’d sit in a corner chatting. The men manned the picket lines at night. Never the women? They’ve broken a window. Over there, quick! The dormitory. Watch out. Carefully game What does he want? I’ve come to prevent trouble. He’s a cop! There were gunshots yesterday. Vacate the premises. Is that why he sent you? We’re tired of your crap! It’s always the same. Get lost! Boursac said he’d kick us out. We said we’d burn this place down. Before I was nothing. I spoke to noone. Good morning, goodnight. I lived alone with the kids. When Jules came home, I’d set the table. I’ve discovered a new world. A different world. A different way of life. A way of life we’ve chosen for ourselves. It’s a break with the past. Life will never be the same. Tightfisted bastards! Profiteers! Scum! We have to stand our ground! We will. Look at old Elodie. She’s coping. Why not the young ones? I’ll keep going. Finish your food quickly. It’s your turn on the picket line.

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