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Going to the seaside.
On a hot summer day.
In a Renault Espace.
By the old Abbeville road.
The country's so beautiful.
Did you take the "Surfin' M.O.D" record ?
And the Snuls tape, I can't do without you know.
What if we stopped at Happiness House.
We could have a beer, listen to black metal ?
Yeah ! Everybody for an oystaz party.
Everybody steps into a snack.
Everybody whistles at the waitress.
Everybody glances at her ass (terribly sorry but there are no oystaz left)
Going to the sea for the oystaz feast.
Not lucky this time, surely cursed by the Beast.
Not one single oysta all through Fort-Mahon.
We jump in the car and we rush to Cahon.
Prawns and fish everywhere, no oystaz left Quend Plage, Le crotoy, Cayeux.
For nails we did these kilometers.
Je ne vais plus a la mer, il faut que je vous raconte.
Dans un tout petit resto, il y avait beaucoup de monde,
je demandais des huitres, la serveuse me repond: "desolee, i' n'a pu"
J'avais pas l'air d'un con.
On a tout dechenille, c'est ainsi avec nous.
Quand on est contrarie, on rigole pas des genoux.
Et aujourd'hui encore, et ce n'est vraiment pas de bol.
Tout le monde se souvient de CARNIVAL IN COAL.
On allait a la mer... pour y manger des huitres...
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