La Marseillaise

In honor of Bastille Day, here's a very loose translation ...

Arise ye sons of France.
It is time to kill the rich!
Their flag is badly designed.
Seeing it. Hurts my eyes.
In the fields someone’s making a fuss.
I suspect they are soldiers.
Coming for us.

Citizens don’t screw around
Form battalions
And let’s get down
Spill the enemy's blood
Not on me. On the ground.

We will beat them with rakes
And blunt instruments
And chop them into tiny pieces.

With glee.

Their blood will fertilize our fields!

Their marrow also is beneficial.

Waste not, want not.

You see?

Time to get crazy, citizens
Form battalions.
And kill some more.
There have to be enemies out there.

Fine them now. Splatter gore!

These slaves are in need of a dirt nap.
These traitors …what? OK, I don’t get it.
Disembowel these accomplices of Bouillé ...
Bouillé? Wait. He’s in London, right?

Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!

No shut up, just a minute, shut up.

The guy who wrote this. Had a grudge.

Citizens this is just more bullcrap.
New boss, old boss.
They’re the same.
Let’s bugger off while we’re still in one piece!
All this “blood” crap makes me sick.

Let us run, let us run, let us run.

I think in Dublin

Life’s more fun.