His hands were dirty and his body tired
from hauling (things) from door to door
from bawling with too loud a voice,
loud enough to shatter glass.
Icy wind and petty rain,
while the middle class girl reads
a book about human condition,
he prowls under her windows,
thinking maybe that's it, bawling with all his heart:
Glazier, glazier,
wearing his regulation overalls.
Glazier, glazier,
with his askew cap,
the old man was so handsome.
Glazier, glazier,
(being a) craftsman, (a) worker,
that's what made him proud.
That's what made him proud.
He worked with all his heart
to prevent glass from sucking up the heating1.
Then one day, along with modernity
the sweet glass left him in the lurch2
His nice bird-prole song was not heard anymore.
Glazier, glazier,
wearing his regulation overalls.
Glazier, glazier,
with his askew cap,
the old man was so handsome.
Glazier, glazier,
(being a) craftsman, (a) worker,
that's what made him proud.
That's what made him proud.
He put his overalls in a closet,
he doesn't set a foot on the sidewalk anymore.
Now his bones are brittle like glass.
He hopes proles will have something to do up there.
He'll fix the Good Lord's window with his wings
tied to his overalls
The poor old geezer is ranting every day
At night he talks about fixing satained glass and singing in heavens
Glazier, glazier,
wearing his regulation overalls.
Glazier, glazier,
with his askew cap,
the old man was so handsome.
Glazier, glazier,
(being a) craftsman, (a) worker,
that's what made him proud.
That's what made him proud.
1. the French is barely understandable. Something about insulation, I suppose2. some pun on "sur le carreau" (in the lurch) while "carreau" can mean (window)pane