Some men are born with money
Some men are born with looks
Some men are born with knowledge
You won't find in Descartes' books

One man is given talent
While one is born with strength
Some men are born with shoulders wide
While some endowed with length

But once in every century there comes a blessed morn
A man like moi with all the gifts I've listed here is born
So this has been my credo since I was very young
I say "It's not my fault", or to put it in my tongue:

"Ce n'est pas ma faute"
I'm really not to blame
I fear you'll have to ask the Lord above
why men do not come out the same
The day that I was born
I crowned just like a prince, it's true
A nursemaid pinched my derriere
and ladies have been pinching ever since
Whoo!

My mother heard me cry
She offered up her breast
Then as a man I learned to use
that sad routine to sample all the rest
But when I list my conquests
It's certainly not meant to gloat
It's to remind you all that ce n'est pas ma faute

Ce n'est pas ma faute
I've caused so many rifts
It's truly both a blessing and a curse
that I must always share these gifts
A tutor named Claudine
Once taught me all she knew
And when I had exhausted all she had
then I taught her a thing or two
The pantry was the place
A serving wench, Suzette (Nice crepes)
Taught me a brand-new recipe
then had me serve it to her on brochette
And so I say to all the crying cuckolds
With their hands around my throat
"I'll have her home by ten" and ce n'est pas ma faute

En garde! Coupe! And coup d'arret!
The pesky duels won't go away
It's simply not my fault that I'm adored
Touche, seconde, arete, riposte
It's just a fact I do not boast
I'm blessed with something mightier than either pen or sword

Now dance, wenches, dance!

(Ce n'est pas ma faute
He's really not to blame)

The problem is the moth that's always circling the flame

(Ce n'est pas ma faute
It's really not his fault)

I'm gifted with a treasure, so why keep it in the vault?

(Ce n'est pas ma faute
Please don't castrate the bull)

I beg you don't demagnetize the magnet for it's pull Ladies:
Oh!

Pull!
(Oh!)
Pull!
(Oh!)

So if you want to find me
I'll be pitching tents beneath your petticoat
I see what keeps this lass afloat
I choose this wench to motorboat
No sheep is safe from this old goat
I'll need some help on this last note

Yes, ce n'est pas ma faute!

- Oh, are we finished?



Por: Luciano Volpe