The Walkabouts People Such as These (Ces Gens-La) Lyrics
            To begin, to begin, there is the first born
            He who is like a melon
            He who has a big nose
            He who doesn't know his name
            Because he drinks a lot
            And he's been drunk-- for a long time
            Does nothing with ten fingers
            He can do no more than that
            Completely cooked
            Sees himself as king
            Drunk every night
            On rotgut wine
            But you'll find him in the morning
            Sleeping in a church
            Stiff as a board
            White like the dove of Easter
            Sitting and stuttering
            Bleary eyed
            It must be said, sir
            People such as these
            We do not think
            We do not think
            We only pray
        
            And then there is another
            With carrots in his hair
            Who never saw a wig a scamp with ticks
            Gives the shirt off his back
            To the happy poor
            He who married Denise
            A girl from the town
            Actually from another town
            And it's not finished
        
            He does his little business
            With his little hat
            His little coat, his little car
            Wants us to believe, he has style
            But he has none at all
            We shouldn't play rich
            When we don't have the money
            It must be said, sir
            People such as these
            We don't live, sir
            We don't live, we trick
        
            And then there are the others
            The mother who says nothing
            Or spews, anything at all
            From evening to morning
            From beneath her pretty face
            Face like an apostle
            And in the wood frame
            The mustache of the father
            He who died in a fall
            He who watches his flock
            Graze on their cold soup
            He who makes big slurrps
            And now we see one of the very old
        
            One who doesn't stop shaking
            To whom nobody listens
            Though it's she who holds the cash
            But nobody listens
            To what her poor poor hands say
            It must be said, sir
            People such as these
            We don't speak, sir
            People such as these
            We just calculate
        
            And then and then
            And then there's Frida
            Beautiful like the sun
            Who loves me the same
            Who I love, Frida
            Even though we often said
            We would own a house
            With many windows
            And few walls
            That we would live there
            And it'd be the good life
            Of course none of it was sure thing
            At best there was a small chance
            Because the others didn't want it
            'Cause the others didn't want it
            The others they talk like this
            They say she's too pretty for me
            They say I am only good enough
            To slit the throats of cats
            But I've never killed cats
            Or at least if I did, it was long ago
            Or maybe I just forgot
            Yes, if I did, it's because they stunk
            No, in the end they didn't want it
            No, in the end they didn't want it
        
            Sometimes when we meet
            We act like it's a coincidence
            And with teary eyes
            She says she'll leave
            She says she'll follow me
            And for one moment
            Only one moment
            That's what I believe
            Just for one moment
            That's what I believe
            Because from people such as these
            We do not escape
            Because from people such as these
            We do not escape
            I gotta go, I gotta go
            I gotta go
        
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