This 1983 protest song by the French singer-songwriter Renaud is a modern version of a song from the French poet Boris Vian from 1954.
Boris Vian wrote Le deserteur during the Indochina War. An anti-militarist song about the young man refusing to join the effort, as he had lost family members during WWII. The original has been covered by many artisits, including in the USA by Joan Baez as well as Paul and Mary.
Renaud’s song uses colloquial language as he does in much of his work, and updated the song to fit in with the Cold war as well as the post 1968 counter-culture in France.
It tells the story of a young man who is called in the army. But as a pacifist refuses to respond to the call.
He writes a letter to the President of the Republic to explain his point of view.
In this particular version, Renaud is portrayed as the song of an anarchist who lives on a hippie commune in the Southern region of Ardèche.
In an irreverent tone and with an anti-militarist stance, he invites the president to come and eat some pasta and smoke a joint on his farm.
In the spirit of the cultural revolution of 1968, they are green supporters and plead for disarmament of the state. Denouncing the rivalry between the USSR and the United States over atomic weapons.
“Quand les Russes, les Ricains feront péter la planète, moi j’aurai l’air malin avec ma bicyclette” (When the Russians and the Yankees blow the world up, what will I look like on my push bike”
Renaud also highlights that he is not politically influenced by the socialist or any other party but cares about animals, children, planet earth and water.
“Et va pas t’imaginer (And don’t go and think)
Monsieur le Président (Mr. President)
Qu’j’suis manipulé (that I am being manipulated)
Par les rouges ou les blancs. (By the reds or the whites)
Je n’suis qu’un militant (I am only a supporter)
Du parti des oiseaux (Of the birds’ party)
Des baleines, des enfants (of the whales, the children)
De la terre et de l’eau” (of the earth and the water)
In 1985, Renaud was invited to a concert in Moscow, Park Gorki.
At the first notes of this song, the crowd left, en masse. It was later found that it was pre-arranged as a plot by the communist youths. Renaud, who was a working-class rebel and left-wing provocateur with anarchist sympathies. This episode at Gorki Park really disappointed him.
Monsieur le président je vous fais une bafouille
Que vous lirez sûrement si vous avez des couilles
Je viens de recevoir un coup de fil de mes vieux
Pour me prévenir que les gendarmes s’étaient pointés chez eux
J’ose pas imaginer ce que leur a dit mon père
Lui les flics les curés et pis les militaires
Il les a vraiment dans le nez p’t’être encore plus que moi
Dès qui peut en bouffer
l’vieil anar il se gêne pas (bis)
Alors il paraît qu’on me cherche
que la France a besoin de moi
c’est con j’suis en Ardèche
Il fait beau tu me crois pas
J’suis là avec des potes des écolos marrants
On a eu une vieille bicoque on la retape tranquillement
On fait pousser des chèvres
On fabrique des bijoux
On peut pas dire qu’on se crève
Le travail c’est pas pour nous
On a des plantations pas énormes : 3 hectares
D’une herbe qui rend moins con
Donc c’est pas du ricard (bis)
Monsieur le président je suis un déserteur
De ton armée de glands de ton troupeau de branleurs
Ils auront pas ma peau ils toucheront pas à mes cheveux
J’saluerai pas le drapeau j’marcherai pas comme les bœufs
J’irai pas en Allemagne faire le con pendant douze mois
Dans une caserne infâme
avec des plus cons que moi
J’aime pas recevoir des ordres, j’aime pas me lever tôt
J’aime pas étrangler le borgne
plus souvent qu’il ne faut (bis)
Puis surtout ce qui me déplaît c’est que j’aime pas la guerre
Puis qui c’est qui qui la fait? Ben c’est les militaires
Ils sont nuls ils sont moches et pis ils sont teigneux
Maintenant j’vais te dire pourquoi j’veux jamais être comme eux
Quand les Russes les Ricains
feront péter la planète
Moi j’aurai l’air malin avec ma bicyclette
Mon pantalon trop court mon fusil mon calot
Ma ration de topinambours
Et ma ligne Maginot (bis)
Alors me gonfle pas, ni moi ni tous mes potes
Je s’rai jamais soldat j’aime pas les bruits de bottes
T’as plus qu’à pas t’en faire et
construire tranquillos
Tes centrales nucléaires
tes sous-marins craignos
Et va pas t’imaginer
Monsieur. le président
Que j’suis manipulé par les rouges ou les blancs
Je ne suis qu’un militant
du parti des oiseaux,
Des baleines, des enfants,
de la terre et de l’eau (bis)
M. le président
pour finir ma bafouille
J’voulais te dire simplement
Que ce soir on se fait des nouilles
À la ferme c’est l’panard
Si tu veux viens bouffer
On fumera un pétard
et on pourra causer (bis)
Mr. President, I am dropping you
a few lines
that, I am sure, you will read
if you have balls.
I have just received a phone call from my old folks
to let me know that the
Troopers had shown up at
their doors.
I can’t imagine what my father told them.
For him, the pigs, priests and the army
He really can’t stand them
maybe even less than I can.
and slag them off as soon as he can
the old anarcho, he doesn’t hold back (bis)
So, I hear they’re looking for me,
That France needs me.
Tough shit, I am in Ardeche.
The weather is nice, don’t you believe me?
I’m here with a few mates,
some fun greenies
We have a dilapidated cottage
that we are doing up bit by bits
We “grow” goats,
We make jewellery.
We can’t say that we are slogging away
Work is not for us.
We have some crops, not huge,
3 hectares
of a kind of grass that makes you less of a dumbass.
No, it’s not Ricard. (bis)
Mr President, I am a
deserter
from your army of knobheads,
from your troops of wankers.
They won’t take me alive
They won’t be touching my hair
I won’t salute the flag,
I won’t follow the herd
I won’t go to Germany to goof off for 12 months
in a wretched barracks
with those more dim-witted than myself
I don’t like taking orders,
I don’t like to get up early.
I don’t like to spank the monkey
more often than necessary (bis).
But mostly what gets to me is
that I don’t like war.
And who does it? Well,
It’s the Grunts.
They suck, they are unsightly
And then they are nasty.
Now I’ll tell you why
I never want to be like them.
When the Russians and the Yankees
will blow up the planet,
What will I look like with my bicycle,
my short-legged trousers, my rifle, my gift,
My ration of artichokes
and my Maginot line. (bis)
So don’t piss me off,
neither all my buddies nor me,
I will never be a soldier. I don’t like the sounds of boots.
You just don’t have to worry about it
and gently build
your nuclear power plants,
your dodgy submarines.
But don’t you think
Mr. President
that I am manipulated by the reds or the whites.
I am only a supporter
of the party of the birds,
the whales, the children,
the land and the water. (bis)
Mr. President,
to conclude my few lines,
I just wanted to let you know
That tonight we’re having pasta
On the farm, it’s pure bliss
If you want, come and stuff yourself.
We’ll smoke a spliff
and we can have a natter. (bis)
Between the French lyrics 
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