Je ne peux pas m'agiter un drapeau ou battre un tambour; Derrire la foule je trane avec le larynx sourd-muet; Hlas ! Je crains que je ne sois pas un patriote.
Avec les yeux acrid je vois l'me des choses; Et galer moi sont des cuisiniers et des rois; Je ne croiserais pas le duc de la rue A pour me runir.
Oh me maudissent pour qu'un imbcile soit si fier; Pour se tenir tellement toujours et se refroidir parmi la foule. Pour Dieu de prsident ou de pair, me laisser encourager !
Mais le non, en dpit de l'allgresse mon coeur est froid; Je pense qu'il peut tre puisque je suis vieux; Je suis sourd-muet o les millions hurlent... Oh diable !
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