Mes jours s'en sont allez errant. - François Villon

But whatever may be said about the life of work,
There is no treasure quite like living at one's ease.

Through wind, hail or frost my living's made.
I am a lecher, and she's a lecher with me.
Which one of us is better? We're both alike:
The one as worthy as the other. Bad rat, bad cat.
We both love filth, and filth pursues us;
We flee from honor, honor flees from us,
In this brothel where we ply our trade.

Prince, give the prize for chatter
To Parisian women; whatever
May be said about Italians,
There is no tongue like one from Paris.