The Ballad of the Researchers

bd/autre chercheurs

En résumé (grâce à un LLM libre auto-hébergé)

  • The song evokes researchers and their work in various scientific fields.
  • It describes their daily lives, their tools, and their ambitions, often with a touch of humor.
  • The work also criticizes the consequences of science on the environment and society.

The Ballad of the Researchers

The Ballad of the Researchers

(MP3 format: 700 k )

I know some scholars
Who walk with their bellies forward
It seems they take
Their bladder for a lantern
I know some researchers
Who work with fervor
To find out why
Oysters have that taste
I know some chemists
Who always have a sad wine
And wander in their cupboards
A molecule behind
Under their soft hats
They seem to be afraid of everything
And shout in the corridors
A bunch of barbaric words
My neighbor on the landing
Never leaves his keyboard
For the computer
He fell in love
In a database
He's looking for his dulcinea
To find a woman
He has a program
For love affairs
With a microprocessor
I don't really believe in it
It's not real work
Synthetic music
And psychedelic drawings
Come, let me install you
In the central memory
In a iron cage
A little monkey is desperate
For peanuts
He does cartwheels
A subject of experiment
On the altar of science
Do me miracles
So I can write
I need a thesis
Three hundred pages easily
Ah, what hard work
To become a doctor
From this pile of paper
From this horrible mess
Ah, will I ever come up with an idea?

There are physicists
Who get their kicks in Latin
Their quantum machine
Gives them tics
They create particles
Like others blow bubbles
In their cyclotron
With equations
And the astronomers
Like majordomos
Before their glasses
Make bows
The sky in three volumes
Or the chemistry of carbon
In their universe
My head is upside down
Theoretical physics
And mathematics
The world in formulas
Too bad if you're not good
At the mathematicians' ball
We get a bit bored
How to have fun
With a big head
For his Nobel Prize
His eternal glory
We spend sleepless nights
We work on Sundays
In seminars
Behind friendly airs
Everyone thinks they're Einstein
Unfortunately, researchers
Always scare me a bit
With their lasers
They play at war
With chemistry
They make a lot of nonsense
And the beautiful Earth
Becomes a trash can
Instead of creating
A lot of good things to eat
With nuclei
They act foolish
If we let them
Tomorrow it will be hell
A nuclear hell

: Chansons.htm
Chansons.htm

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