Tisonnant, tisonnant son cœur amoureux sous Sa chaste robe noire, heureux, la main gantée, Un jour qu’il s’en allait, effroyablement doux, Jaune, bavant la foi de sa bouche édentée, Un jour qu’il s’en allait, «Orémus»,—un Méchant Le prit rudement par son oreille benoite Et lui jeta des mots affreux, en arrachant Sa chaste robe noire autour de sa peau moite! Châtiment! . . . Ses habits étaient déboutonnés, Et le long chapelet des péchés pardonnés S’égrenant dans son cœur, Saint Tartufe était pâle! . . . Donc, il se confessait, priait, avec un râle! L’homme se contenta d’emporter ses rabats . . . —Peuh! Tartufe était nu du haut jusques en bas!
Poking, poking his amorous heart under His chaste black robe, happy, his gloved hand, One day as he was leaving, terribly sweet, Yellow, drooling faith from his toothless mouth, One day as he was leaving, "Oremus",—a Villain Took him roughly by his holy ear And threw horrible words at him, tearing His chaste black robe around his damp skin! Punishment! . . . His clothes were unbuttoned, And the long rosary of forgiven sins Ranking in his heart, Saint Tartuffe was pale! . . . So, he confessed, prayed, with a death rattle! The man was content to take his flaps . . . —Peuh! Tartuffe was naked from top to toe!
Poésies