I can sing the first verse of the French national anthem "La Marseillaise" (sp?) - I once won a bet in a bar with that talent!
and let's not forget Mon Pays (i love this one)
Mon Pays (Original French lyrics)
Mon pays ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver
Mon jardin ce n'est pas un jardin, c'est la plaine
Mon chemin ce n'est pas un chemin, c'est la neige
Mon pays ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver
Dans la blanche ceremonie
Ou la neige au vent se marie
Dans ce pays de poudrerie
Mon pere a fait batir maison
Et je m'en vais etre fidele
A sa maniere, a son modele
La chambre d'amis sera telle
Qu'on viendra des autres saisons
Pour se batir a cote d'elle
Mon pays ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver
Mon refrain ce n'est pas un refrain, c'est rafale
Ma maison ce n'est pas ma maison, c'est froidure
Mon pays ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver
De mon grand pays solitaire
Je crie avant que de me taire
A tous les hommes de la terre
Ma maison c'est votre maison
Entre mes quatre murs de glace
Je mets mon temps et mon espace
A preparer le feu, la place
Pour les humains de l'horizon
Et les humain sont de ma race
Mon pays ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver
Mon jardin ce n'est pas un jardin, c'est la plaine
Mon chemin ce n'est pas un chemin, c'est la neige
Mon pays ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver
Mon pays ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'envers
D'un pays qui n'etait ni pays ni patrie
Ma chanson ce n'est pas une chanson, c'est ma vie
C'est pour toi que je veux posseder mes hivers
i prefer it in French but for the French-impaired :
My Country (English translation of Mon Pays)
My country it is not a country, it is the winter
My garden it is not a garden, it is the plain
My path it is not a path, it is the snow
My country it is not a country, it is the winter
In the white ceremony
Where the snow marries the wind
In this country of powder snow
My father built his house
And I am going to be faithful
To his way, to his example
The room of friendship will be certain
When the other seasons come
To build near it
My country it is not a country, it is the winter
My refrain it is not a refrain, it is the flurries
My house it is not my house, it is the coldness
My country it is not a country, it is the winter
Of my great lonely country
I cry out before I am made silent
To all the people on earth
My house it is your house
Between my four walls of ice
I put my time and space
To prepare the fire, the place
For humans along the horizon
And for humans from my own race
My country, it is not a country, it is the winter
My garden, it is not a garden, it is the plain
My path it is not a path, it is the snow
My country it is not a country, it is the winter
My country it is not a country, it is the reverse
Of a country that is neither a country nor a homeland
My song it is not a song, it is my life
It is for you that I would like to possess my winters.
Okay, this is not an anthem, official or unofficial, but it does tell a haunting story of a growing Canada:
Far From Their Home (A Song of Grosse Isle)
Brendan Nolan
"Over a million people left Ireland during the so-called famine. Many left one hell only to have it substituted for another. The island of Grosse Isle in the St. Lawrence near Quebec city was a quarantine station which saw its resources stretched to the limit during the years of 1846 and '47. To the thousands who are buried there, R.I.P."
Oh we left our homes and traveled
Though many not know where we lie
They said 'twas a land of promise
But few saw it with their own eyes
For it's here on this sad lonely island
Where the wind blows cold to the bone
We rest in its soil forgotten
Far away from our home.
On the 14th day of June
Our packet it set sail
Down the eastern coast we wound
Past Wexford and Kinsale
Till sadly the sunset faded
Gently from our eyes
And the lights of the Southwest flickered away
As we said our last goodbye.
Oh it's hard to describe the suffering
As this awful voyage began.
Two weeks out to sea, we had lost 10 or more
As the fever took the strongest of men
And the holds were battened for days on end
To stifle the sickness below
While the waters of the ocean swallowed our dead
Far away from their home.
Our spirits they were weary
As the great broad river began
And a whale rose up from the waters
As we sailed into this new land
With its hillsides that sloped toward the shoreline
And villages cradled within
We prayed these people could pity our plight
And find a new home for our kin.
Within sight of Grosse Isle
We were anchored far off shore
For many more ships lay waiting
And we'd stay maybe five days or more
For the lost ones outnumbered the living
And a terrible sight it was plain
As a packet floated out in the bay
With its human cargo aflame.
And the sheds overflowed with suffering
And their cries pierced the silence at night
And the brave ones who tended these travelers
Some paid with their lives in the fight
I've lost my own on this island
And my candle's near dying away
To have traveled so far on our journey
Humble voyagers together we'll stay.
Je m'appelle Léo Quinn
Mes ancêtres sont ici
Enterrés sur Grosse Isle
Qui fait face à ma ville Montmagny
Mes souvenirs ne sont que des fantômes
Qui survollent et dansent dans le vent
Ils demandent qu'on se souviens d'eux
Même si ce n'est qu'en chantant.
There are no boats tied in the river
And the cross stands gaunt on the hill
No wretched shadows trod from the shore
To the fever sheds now that lie still
Just the white markers guard their memory
No names carved in granite or stone
And the long grass waves to the wind as she blows
O'er these brave ones far from their home.
And the long grass waves to the wind as she blows
O'er these brave ones far from their home.
Translation of French Verse:
My name is Leo Quinn
My ancestors lie here
buried on Grosse Isle
Which faces my town of Montmagny
My memories are ghosts
Who swirl and dance in the wind
They ask that we remember them
Even if only in song
Wow! Fantastic! Great links and awesome French. :
http://members.aol.com/ragtimers/mapleaf.html
(i were going to throw in the maple leaf rag, but letty beat me to it...)
Anyone else think the anthem should be changed to "This land is your land" by the esteemed (very) late Mr. Guthrie?
It would be easy for canajuns to sing, as we've got a modified version of this land is your land sung with canajun landmarks.
you do the murican chorus, i'll do the canajun chorus. puppies everywhere will howl! :wink:
Another 'unofficial' Canajun anthem:
The Hockey Song
Stompin' Tom Connors
Hello out there, we're on the air
It's Hockey night tonight
The tension grows, the whistle blows
And the puck goes down the ice
The goalie jumps and the players bump
The fans all go insane
The home crowd roars, Bobby scores
At the good old Hockey game
Oh! The good old Hockey game
Is the best game you can name
And the best game you can name
Is the good old Hockey game!
Second period
Where players dash with skates a flash
The home team trails behind
But they grab the puck and go bursting up
And they're down across the line
They storm the crease like bumble bees
They travel like a burning plane
We see them slide the puck inside
It's a one-one hockey game
Oh! The good old Hockey game
Is the best game you can name
And the best game you can name
Is the good old Hockey game!
Third period, last game of the playoffs too!
Oh take me where the hockey players
Face-off down the rink
And the Stanley Cup is all filled up
For the champs who win the drink
Now the final flick of a hockey stick
And on one gigantic screen
Well the puck is in - the home team wins
That good old hockey game
Oh! The good old Hockey game
Is the best game you can name
And the best game you can name
Is the good old Hockey game!
Puppies everwhere will howl? love it. Hate to tell you ehBeth. Knew almost all the words to the patriotic songs of your link.
What, no fights in that good old Hockey game?
Stompin' Tom is a true Canajun....he didn't have to mention fights, cuz he figures all Canajuns know thats a given.
in that case, howsabout A Sudbury Saturday Night - when the boys are gettin' stinko.
i know waaaaaaaaaaay too many of these Stompin' Tom songs. He played the Labour Day Picnic in my hometown the night before I left for university - one of his tapes is on constant rewind whenever I head out to Tweed to play golf - or when I'm headin' home.
One of the lines in the later verses in "God Save the Queen" is
"...Rebellious Scots to crush"
and I'm not sure I can endorse that completely.
Since we have to listen to these tunes, interminably, at the Olympics and similar events, they all pale after a while. Some are good, like the Italian anthem, but maybe that's because we don't get to hear that one very often. I am convinced that the judges don't let Brits win very often because they can't stand the thought of one more playing of our dirge.
Oh, my gorsh, McTag
I certainly did not know that that was a line in the Brit's national anthem.
Hey, Mac. what did you win?
Sudbury Saturday Night was my second choice, ehBeth
i have a frightening vision - something to do with cavfancier, a pub, some bevvies - and then - Stompin' Tom karaoke - without the karaoke.
