THE WAY OF MY DAD
		-----------------

He was a bit of poet and a bit of vagrant 
He had never known neither fatherland, nor the owner 
  He came from anywhere, went to the four winds 
  But inside his carriage we were ten children 
    And in the evening, around a campfire 
    We dreamed of a white house while singing 

REFRAIN:That it is long, that it is far, your way, dad 
------- It is really tiring of going where you go 
	That it is long, that it is far, your way, dad 
	You should stop at this corner 

But it did not listen to us and on a small day 
Our family took again its course for the long voyage 
  It was hardly any time for our mother to wash her shirt 
  And here you are - we left again for a new Promised Land 
    And in the evening, around a campfire 
    She dreamed of a white house while singing

REFRAIN.

And again jolting through the seasons 
Again looking over the horizon 
  Not even realizing that, our father sowed us 
  Over the four corners of the world like grains of corn 
    And at some place at the end of the universe 
    The old carriage of my father is still rolling

REFRAIN.