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Pub. 1550.
Lyrics: Anon
Un pèlerin qui les Turcs avaient pris
À son retour ses peines racontait.
En récitant comment il fut surpris,
Tous les tourments à deux dames comptait.
Dont l'une d'eux, qui se piteux comptait,
Lui demanda: "Mais que font-il aux femmes?"
"Ha", ce dit-il, "les malheureux infames
Leur font cela, tant qu'ils les font mourir".
"Or, plût à Dieu", ce dit l'autre des dames,
"Que pour la foi je puisse ainsi périr".
So this pilgrim who'd been seized by the Turks,
Relates his travails upon his return.
Telling how he'd been captured,
He enumerates all his ordeals to two matrons.
One of them, thinking of herself as sensitive,
is like: "But what happens to the women?"
And he's like: "They commit evil villainies,
Enough to make them die".
The other matron's like: "Please God, for my faith
I'd be capable of dying like that".
Un pèlerin qui les Turcs avaient pris
À son retour ses peines racontait.
En récitant comment il fut surpris,
Tous les tourments à deux dames comptait.
Dont l'une d'eux, qui se piteux comptait,
Lui demanda: "Mais que font-il aux femmes?"
"Ha", ce dit-il, "les malheureux infames
Leur font cela, tant qu'ils les font mourir".
"Or, plût à Dieu", ce dit l'autre des dames,
"Que pour la foi je puisse ainsi périr".
So this pilgrim who'd been seized by the Turks,
Relates his travails upon his return.
Telling how he'd been captured,
He enumerates all his ordeals to two matrons.
One of them, thinking of herself as sensitive,
is like: "But what happens to the women?"
And he's like: "They commit evil villainies,
Enough to make them die".
The other matron's like: "Please God, for my faith
I'd be capable of dying like that".