"Cher monsieur, m'ont-ils dit, vous en êtes un autre"
Lorsque je refusai de monter dans leur train
Oui, sans doute, mais moi, j'fais pas le bon apôtre
Moi, je n'ai besoin de personne pour en être un

Le pluriel ne vaut rien à l'homme et sitôt qu'on
Est plus de quatre on est une bande de cons
Bande à part, sacrebleu! C'est ma règle et j'y tiens
Dans les noms des partants on n'verra pas le mien

Dieu! Que de processions, de monômes, de groupes
Que de rassemblements, de cortèges divers
Que de ligues, que de cliques, que de meutes, que de troupes
Pour un tel inventaire il faudrait un Prévert

Le pluriel ne vaut rien à l'homme et sitôt qu'on
Est plus de quatre on est une bande de cons
Bande à part, sacrebleu! C'est ma règle et j'y tiens
Parmi les cris des loups on n'entend pas le mien

Oui, la cause était noble, était bonne, était belle!
Nous étions amoureux, nous l'avons épousée
Nous souhaitions être heureux tous ensemble avec elle
Nous étions trop nombreux, nous l'avons défrisée

Le pluriel ne vaut rien à l'homme et sitôt qu'on
Est plus de quatre on est une bande de cons
Bande à part, sacrebleu! C'est ma règle et j'y tiens
Parmi les noms d'élus on n'verra pas le mien

Je suis celui qui passe à côté des fanfares
Et qui chante en sourdine un petit air frondeur
Je dis, à ces messieurs que mes notes effarent
"Tout aussi musicien que vous, tas de bruiteurs!"

Le pluriel ne vaut rien à l'homme et sitôt qu'on
Est plus de quatre on est une bande de cons
Bande à part, sacrebleu! C'est ma règle et j'y tiens
Dans les rangs des pupitres on n'verra pas le mien

Pour embrasser la dame, s'il faut se mettre à douze
J'aime mieux m'amuser tout seul, cré nom de nom!
Je suis celui qui reste à l'écart des partouzes
L'obélisque est-il monolithe, oui ou non?

Le pluriel ne vaut rien à l'homme et sitôt qu'on
Est plus de quatre on est une bande de cons
Bande à part, sacrebleu! C'est ma règle et j'y tiens
Au faisceau des phallus on n'verra pas le mien

Pas jaloux pour un sou, des morts, des hécatombes
J'espère être assez grand pour m'en aller tout seul
Je ne veux pas qu'on m'aide à descendre à la tombe
Je partage n'importe quoi, pas mon linceul

Le pluriel ne vaut rien à l'homme et sitôt qu'on
Est plus de quatre on est une bande de cons
Bande à part, sacrebleu! C'est ma règle et j'y tiens
Au faisceau des tibias on n'verra pas les miens!


Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings

Le pluriel Lyrics as written by Georges Brassens

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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Le Pluriel song meanings
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