A/N: I'm using a 1928 version of the lyrics. English translation is below the fic, which should make everything else a bit clearer. This song is considered by many to be the "Cajun National Anthem," as it were, and deserves at least an accordion. But the chord progression is pretty simple and could probably be managed on a straightforward acoustic guitar. Regardless, I've decided to start giving Remy back up.
Remy actually had a paying gig, in a bar. It wasn't much, but it would take care of rent. Besides, he could pickpocket some of the patrons when his set was finished. Drunks hardly ever noticed their money missing unless they were buying more drink. Even then, they were quick to assume they'd simply spent it all themselves.
All in all, he was okay with this gig. He didn't know the other musicians, but they seemed decently skilled. He started the night off easy. They'd heard the song before and he told them all the right chords. He couldn't believe his luck to get an accordion and a fiddler; with his acoustic they were practically a Cajun band waiting to happen. No drummer, unfortunately, but that would probably just confuse things initially anyway.
He wasn't really a sentimental type. But he couldn't help but notice his anniversary, sad as that was. Remy picked a blonde out of the audience and decided to pretend for a little while, just to get the words off his chest.
"Jolie blonde, regardez donc quoi t'as fait,
Tu m'as quitte pour t'en aller,
Pour T'en aller avec un autre, oui, que moi,
Quel espoir et quel avenir, mais, moi, je vais avoir?
"Jolie blonde, tu m'as laisse, moi tout seul,
Pour t'en aller chez ta famille.
Si t'aurais pas ecoute tos les conseils de les autres
tu serait ici-t-avec moi aujourd 'hui
"Jolie blonde, tu croyais il y avait just toi,
Il y a pas just toi dans le pays pour moi aimer.
Je peux trouver just une autre jolie blonde,
Bon Dieu sait, moi, j'ai un tas."
She might have thought he was singing her a love song. There were versions of Jolie Blonde that had been cleaned up to sound like romantic tripe. But he'd always preferred the classic version, and recently it rather fit him better. If he thought about it, this version had always suited him better, though the women in his life didn't usually do the leaving.
No matter. He could find another pretty blonde, though no one could truly replace Belladonna.
Pretty blond, look at what you've done,
You left me to go away,
to go away with another, yes, than me,
What hope and what future am I going to have?
Pretty blond, you've left me all alone
To go back to your family.
If you had not listened to all the advice of the others
You would be here with me today.
Pretty blond, you thought there was just you,
There is not just you in the land to love me.
I can find another pretty blond,
Good God knows, I have a lot.