This is a 1954 literary song from the singer-songwriter Georges Brassens.
Written as a fable and social critique, it is a semi-autobiographical story inspired by Brassens’ stay at his friend’s modest house when he was fleeing the STO (Forced Labour Service) in 1944-occupied France.
It was also inspired by Georges Brassens’ encounter during the cold winter of 1954. L’Abbé Pierre, the priest who founded Emmaus, made an appeal for the homeless on the radio. Urging people to be kind, as a woman died after being evicted from her flat.
It has become an anthem for solidarity and brotherhood and praises the kindness of the common man against society’s indifference.
An “Auvergnat” was a term often used at the time to describe a coal and wood trader.
Here, Georges Brassens uses the word as an allegory to describe someone who gives everything away, even if he doesn’t have much.
The Hostess refers to Jeanne Le Bonnier and Marcel Planche. Living in a slum house in Paris, without water or electricity, they hosted Brassens when he didn’t return to his forced labour camp in Germany during WWII. They didn’t have much themselves, yet offered food and shelter to Georges Brassens for his months of hiding.
Georges Brassens never revealed who the “stranger” was, but he could be his own father, who collected him from the police station when he was caught escaping the Forced Labour. Rather than scolding him, his father smiled at him.
The Auvergnats were regarded as tough and stingy people. By dedicating the song to an Auvergnat man, Brassens is trying to break the stigma by referring to the kindness of others and inverting the clichés.
Elle est à toi cette chanson
Toi l’Auvergnat
qui, sans façon
M’as donné quatre bouts de bois
Quand dans ma vie il faisait froid
Toi qui m’as donné du feu quand
Les croquantes et les croquants
Tous les gens bien intentionnés
M’avaient fermé la porte au nez
Ce n’était rien qu’un feu de bois
Mais il m’avait chauffé le corps
Et dans mon âme, il brûle encore
À la manière d’un feu de joie
Toi, l’Auvergnat quand tu mourras
Quand le croc-mort
t’emportera
Qu’il te conduise à travers
ciel
Au père éternel
Elle est à toi cette chanson
Toi l’hôtesse qui,
sans façon
M’as donné quatre bouts de pain
Quand dans ma vie il faisait faim
Toi qui m’ouvris ta huche quand
Les croquantes et les croquants
Tous les gens bien intentionnés
S’amusaient à me voir jeuner
Ce n’était rien qu’un peu de pain
Mais il m’avait chauffé le corps
Et dans mon âme, il brûle encore
À la manière d’un grand festin
Toi, l’hôtesse quand tu mourras
Quand le croc-mort t’emportera
Qu’il te conduise à travers
ciel
Au père éternel
Elle est à toi cette chanson
Toi l’étranger qui,
sans façon
D’un air malheureux
m’as souri
Lorsque les gendarmes m’ont pris
Toi qui n’as pas applaudi quand
Les croquantes et les croquants
Tous les gens bien intentionnés
Riaient de me voir emmené
Ce n’était rien qu’un peu de miel
Mais il m’avait chauffé le corps
Et dans mon âme, il brûle encore
À la manière d’un grand soleil
Toi, l’Étranger quand tu mourras
Quand le croc-mort t’emportera
Qu’il te conduise à travers
ciel
Au père éternel
This is a song for you
You, the Auvergnat,
whom, without a fuss
Gave me four pieces of wood
When it was cold in my life
You, who gave me a fire when
The self-righteous folks
All those well-intentioned people
Had shut the door in my face
It was nothing but a wooden fire
But it warmed my body
And in my soul, is still alight
As a bonfire
You, the Auvergnat, when you die When the grave digger
will take you away
May he lead you through the heavens
To the Heavenly Father
This is your song
You, the hostess, who,
without a fuss
Gave me four pieces of bread
When in my life I was hungry
You, who opened your bread bin to me when
The self-righteous folks
Those well-intentioned people
Were having fun watching me fast
It was nothing but a little bread
Yet it warmed my body
And in my soul, still burns
like a great feast
You, the hostess, when you die
When the grave digger will take you away
May he lead you through the heavens
To the Heavenly Father
This is your song
You the stranger, who,
without a fuss
With a sad look on you face,
smiled at me
When the constables caught me
You, who didn’t applaud
When the self-righteous folks
Those well-intentioned people
Laughed as seeing me being taken away
It was nothing but a little honey
But it warmed my body
And in my soul, it still burns
Like a strong sunshine
You, the stranger, when you die
When the grave digger will take you away
May he lead you through the heavens
To the Heavenly Father
Between the French lyrics 
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