Chaque soir, dès que revient la nuit
Dans mes rêves je m'enfuis
En liberté, je vis ma vie
Tu ne t'en doutes pas
Toi qui dors près de moi

Loin d'ici et de ces quatres murs
Je m'en vais à l'aventure
Le monde s'ouvre devant moi
Pour moi, tu n'existes pas
Toi qui dors près de moi

Sous les mers, dans de vieux bateaux morts
J'ai découvert des trésors
La mer est sans secret pour moi
Mais je ne sais rien de toi
Toi qui dors près de moi

J'ai trouvé un enfant qui pleurait
Je crois qu'il te ressemblait

D'un baiser je l'ai consolé
Mais je ne peux rien pour toi
Toi qui dors près de moi

Une nuit, au détour du chemin
Le diable m'a prise par la main
Il m'a dit "Ta vie ne vaut rien"
Il m'a parlé de toi
Toi qui dors près de moi

C'est pourquoi, je sais qu'un beau matin
C'est écrit, je n'y peux rien,
Quand le soleil se lèvera
Tu t'éveilleras sans moi
Toi qui dors près de moi

Jesus was a working man
And a hero, you shall hear
Born in the slums of Bethlehem
At the turning of the year
At the turning of the year

When Jesus was a little lad
The streets rang with his name
For he argued with the older men
And he put them all to shame
He put them all to shame

His father he apprenticed him
A carpenter to be
To plane and drill and work with skill
In the town of Galilee
The town of Galilee

He became a roving journeyman
And he wandered far and wide
And he saw how wealth and poverty
Lived always side by side
Always side by side

He said,"Come all you working men
You farmers and weavers too
If you will only organise
The world belongs to you
The world belongs to you"

So the fishermen sent two delegates
And the farmers and weavers too
And they formed a working committee of twelve
To see the struggle through
To see the struggle through

When the rich men heard what the carpenter had done
To the Roman troops they ran
Saying "Put this rebel Jesus down
He's a menace to God and man
Menace to God and man"

The commander of the occupying troops
He laughed and then he said
"There's a cross to spare on Cavalry Hill
By the weekend he'll be dead
By the weekend he'll be dead

Jesus walked among the poor
For the poor were his own kind
And they never let the cops get close enough
To take him from behind
Oh, to take him from behind

So they hired a man of the traitor's trade
And a stool pigeon was he
And he sold his brother to the butcher's men
For a fistful of silver money
A fistful of money

When Jesus stood in the prison cell
They beat him and offered him bribes
To desert the cause of his own poor folk
And work for the rich men's tribe
Work for the rich men's tribe

The sweat stood out upon his brow
And the blood was in his eye
And they nailed his body to the Roman cross
And they laughed as they watched him die
They laughed as they watched him die

Two thousand years have passed and gone
And many a hero too
But the dream of this poor carpenter
At last is coming true