She was bored at Place Saint-Michel, with idiots
She was going down to Place de l'Horloge, in Avignon
Bored with old geezers
Of twenty-five years
Who come back from India or Morocco
And who get drunk
Sitting on sleeping bags
Rather grubby
Under their cobblestones, it might be the beach
But it's ugly

She was a bit of a camper
A bit of a hitchhiker
I would have preferred her to be vicious, even a tease

I picked her up at the Porte de Vanves, one June evening
She got into my Ford Mustang, with her dog
A completely crazy Doberman
Who was very hungry
Who put hair and drool
All over my cushions
She took off her slippers
Hello smell
To sleep super comfortably
For three hours

She was a bit of a camper
A bit of a hitchhiker
I would have preferred her to be vicious, even a tease

When she woke up she was energetic, she talked to me
About a friend of hers who is a journalist at V.S.D
Who sometimes writes in Rock and Folk
Under a false name
And who would be gay as a seal
But far from stupid
I told her, shut up, you're annoying me
With your stories
And you're smoking me out with your weed
It makes me sick

She was a bit of a camper
A bit of a hitchhiker
I would have preferred her to be vicious, even a tease

We stopped to eat after Moulins
And Jacques Borel sang us his little refrain
The rotten dish that is his
I didn't touch it
Look, it's not hard, even the dog
Threw up everything
My hitchhiker filled her drawer
Without saying a word
She was stiff, as if by chance
I paid for everything

She was a bit of a camper
A bit of a hitchhiker
I would have preferred her to be vicious, even a tease

When I proposed to her the boot, without really believing it
She told me, keep talking, buddy, you're just a square
So, to lighten the atmosphere
Very gloomy, very punk
I put a Starshouter cassette
In my Blaupunkt

She tells me, I prefer rock'n'roll
It's more fun
I threw her out of my car
With big kicks

She was a bit of a camper
A bit of a hitchhiker
I would have preferred her to be vicious, even a tease

She ended up on the asphalt with her pots
Her backpack, her Doberman, serves her right
No more campers for me
I've had my fill
Don't talk to me about hitchhikers anymore
It makes me gloomy
I don't want anyone in my car anymore
I'm better off alone
I drive with one hand, with the other I drink
I'm having a blast

She was a bit of a camper
A bit of a hitchhiker
I would have preferred her to be vicious, even a tease

She was a bit of a camper
A bit of a hitchhiker
I would have preferred her to be vicious, even a tease

She was a bit of a camper
A bit of a show-off
A bit vicious
A bit of a pisser
A bit of a scabrous
A bit ugly
I would have preferred her to be vicious, even a tease

Be careful not to trigger the hitchhiker

VIEW ORIGINAL LYRICS