Although they share the same language, separated by the Atlantic Ocean, the French and Quebecers are quite different.
Lynda Lemay , Quebec singer known in France and Quebec, invites us to discover these differences song in his album "Heart and Soul", released in 2000. 10 years later, the song is still so relevant!
Y speak in precise words
Then there pronounce all the syllables
At the end of the field, there s'donnent bis
spend their big day at the table
Y have menus that include not
Y drink wine as if it were water emulsion
Y eat bread bad foie gras
By finding the means to not be fat
Y to do demos quarter hour
Every damn street corners
All taxis have drivers who drive crazy
which stick in the ass
And when it come to speak with us
C ' is for winter or Indian
Long walks in the Ski-doo
Or dogsled
They have tiny cups
huge ashtrays
And there are real coffee adult
They swallow it in two There are engorged
their big German shepherds
And their little darlings
poodles on the floors of restaurants
Grocery stores, pharmacies
Are What dine when to say And there is supper
two hours when there
lunch early morning, it smells like yoghurt Y
not know eggs-bacon
Late evening is more of duck breast chocroute
or snails
All s'déroule c'qu'on tastes good until fucking
In their calf's head
A piece of eyelid, a piece of gum
A piece of ear, nose after
For papillae Tasting
In Quebec, it's a little too
Then we take it for a Martian
When you order a glass of milk
Or when you ask: The bathroom
East in what place, please?
And when they come to us
Y s'prennent toque and Kanuk
start looking igloos
end up in a sugar shack
Y fall in love instantly
With our forests and lakes
And there 's as we start talking
Learn to say: Well Tabarnak
drunk caribou
At Molson and gin
Y rave about our stews
OF pigs' feet and our dishes Binns
Given that we did not smelly cheeses
Y accommodate themselves to an old Cheddar And there
not complain too much either
From our small cafe bastard
When their stay comes to an end They
understood that they have the right
In addition we call Canadians
While there is
Y Quebecois say goodbye, her eyes wet
The solid maple syrup
baggage is carried to them It looks like
wish them bon voyage
It is made of slats that gives
As if we had always done
There's a hole in Quebec
When leaving the cursed French
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