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Updated: August 27, 2024
So giés yé té plis noir passé la nouitte, So dé la lev' plis doux passe la quitte! Tou' mo la vie, zamein mo oir Ein n' amourèse zoli comme ça! Mo' blié manzé mo' blié boir' Mo' blié tout dipi ç' temps-l
The wedding singers take their places, one on this side the bridal calèche, the other on that, and away it starts, creaking and groaning. "Mais, arretez! Stop, stop! Before going, passez le 'nisette! pass the anisette!" May the New-Orleans compounder be forgiven the iniquitous mixture! "Boir les dames avant! Let the ladies drink first!" Aham! straight from the bottle. Now, go. The calèche moves.
"Come, we will try again," she said. She swept her cithara, and the tenor voice took up the notes. "Faster!" she said. The time quickened. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone. "Chi boit et ne reboit, ne cais qua boir soit," rang out the voice. "Qua boir soit qua boir soit," repeated Violante softly. The duet rose, full and sweet and clear, with passionate undertones.
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