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Un vieux marin, 

Sur le port de Brest, 

Attendait, de bon matin, 

Un navire lâchant du lest.

Un capitaine compréhensif, 

Se résolut à l'embarquer,

Pour piloter près des récifs,

Son chalutier peinturluré.

Un vieux marin, 

Quitte le port de Brest

Il s'en vas, à midi vingt,

Sans demander son reste.

Mais voilà que, malheur !

Il a oublié sa pipe.

Il l'a laissé chez sa sœur,

Qui reprisait ses vielles fripes.

Un vieux marin,

Revient sur le port de Brest.

Il partira demain,

Sans oublier son reste.

Twigg le Poête Chantant

An old sailor in the port of Brest

expected, good morning a ship dropping ballast.

A comprehensive master, resolved to embark,

to drive near reefs daubed his trawler.

An lod sailor leaves the port of Brest, he goes to twelve twenty without asking fir his. But, woe ! He has forgotten his Pipe smoking.

He left with his sister who was mending his lod tat.

An old sailor returns to the port of Brest.

He will leave tomorrow without forgetting its remains.

Twigg, the poet singing

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