Nous n'irons plus au bois is a traditional French song with lyrics dating from the 18th century.
The story of the song
Nous n'irons plus au bois (We won't go to the woods again) is a French children's circle. According to wikipedia, it was created at Christmas 1753 by Madame de Pompadour, for the children of the nearby village, after Louis XV had offered her the Hôtel d'Évreux, which was to become the Élysée Palace.
However, other sources indicate that the song goes back much earlier, to the 16th century in particular.
Not a song for children?
However, the children's rhyme has a hidden meaning that is not aimed at children: it denounces in a roundabout way the ban on of some forms of immorality during part of the reign of Louis XIV.
Nous n'irons plus au bois
Lyrics, music, free download... let's learn more about the popular song:
The lyrics in French
The original song of Nous n'irons plus au bois has 6 verses and a chorus.
Couplet 1
Nous n’irons plus au bois, les lauriers sont coupés
La belle que voilà, ira les ramasser
Refrain
Entrez dans la danse, voyez comme on danse,
Sautez, dansez, embrassez qui vous voudrez.
Couplet 2
Et les lauriers du bois les laiss’rons nous faner
Non, chacune à son tour ira les ramasser
Couplet 3
Si la cigale y dort, ne faut pas la blesser
Le chant du rossignol la viendra réveiller
Couplet 4
Et aussi la fauvette avec son doux gosier
Et Jeanne, la bergère, avec son blanc panier,
Couplet 5
Cigale, ma cigale, allons, il faut chanter
Car les lauriers du bois sont déjà repoussés
Couplet 6
Cigale, ma cigale au printemps va chanter
Car les lauriers du bois sont déjà repoussés
Translation of the lyrics into English
Here is an approximative translation into English:
Verse 1
We won't go to the woods anymore, the laurels are cut
The beautiful one will pick them up
Chorus
Enter the dance, see how we dance,
Jump, dance, kiss whoever you want.
Verse 2
And the laurels of the wood let us wither
No, each in turn will pick them up
Verse 3
If the cicada sleeps there, don't hurt her
The nightingale's song will wake her up
Verse 4
And also the warbler with her sweet throat
And Jeanne, the shepherdess, with her white basket,
Verse 5
Cicada, my cicada, let's go, we must sing
For the laurels of the wood are already grown
Verse 6
Cicada, my cicada in the spring will sing
For the laurels of the wood are already grown
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