Driving home this afternoon after an impromptu Korean lunch in the Pacific Mall, Richard launched into an enthusiastic rendition of the French song Alouette. (I have no working theory to connect the teriyaki beef consumed by Richard to this curiously Gallic response). Although the point of the singing was to momentarily amuse/distract/befuddle our overtired toddler, it prompted a discussion between Richard & I as to the meaning of the song. My regrettably weak grade-nine level French recalled that alouette was a bird (a lark, specifically) and that tête meant head. Well, thanks to Google...

So what do we have here? A song about a lovely lark. Getting plucked.

Alouette, gentille Alouette,
Alouette je te plumerai,
Alouette, gentille Alouette,
Alouette je te plumerai,
Je te plumerai la tête,
Je te plumerai la tête,
Et la tête, et la tête,
Alouette, Alouette,
O-o-o-o-oh,
Alouette, gentille Alouette,
Alouette je te plumerai…

…and in English translation:

Lark, lovely lark,
Lark, lovely lark,
Lark, I’m going to pluck you,
Lark, lovely lark,
Lark, I’m going to pluck you
I’m going to pluck your head,
I’m going to pluck your head,
And the head, and the head,
Lark, lark,
O-o-o-o-oh,
Lark, lovely lark,
Lark, I’m going to pluck you…

Oh, those morbid Frenchies. With their children's songs shaded so dark, it's little wonder that they all smoke so much.