The Warrant Officers
| In Djibouti, the warrant officers Strut about, they're happy It's Saturday, it's payday They have necks like pillars A little head and big feet And red all over their ears | In Djibouti, the warrant officers Run off to have a good time At the brothel on rue d'Paris The ladies are there, waiting for them They'll get their money's worth Enough to dream about until Monday | In Djibouti, the warrant officers Come from nothing, come from the ranks Don't find life bland Must say that here they are kings Yet it happens that sometimes They feel a bit empty-headed |
| It must be the heat here It's a good fifty at noon It doesn't help the thinking When you think, it's about your health Here it's quick to catch A nasty sore on your prick | In Djibouti, there are beggars They have no gaze and they have no teeth Sometimes a leg missing For sure, think the warrant officers And who keeps all these beggars alive It's still France that pays | In Djibouti, when evening comes At the rendezvous of the hopeless On the demarcation line At the hour when the good Frenchman sleeps Perched atop the watchtowers The warrant officers take a shot |