In a cardboard box
Sleep the little figurines
The shepherd...the grinder
And the child Jesus the redeemer
The Ravi who saw him is always delighted.
The cotton sheep are squeezed at the bottom
One evening the golden star appears
And all the little figurines
Leave the cardboard box
Naively devoutly
They go to God to make their wishes
And their song is touching.
Christmas, merry Christmas,
Merry Christmas from Provence

The shepherd as before
Shows the way to the three Kings
And these Kings have for followers
Camels loaded with presents.
Their coats are very beautiful, gilded with a brush
And they have their chins blackened with coal
Early in the morning I saw their procession pass,
They dragged their poor feet
On the big paper rocks.
Naively devoutly
They go to God to make their wishes
And their song is touching.
Christmas, merry Christmas,
Merry Christmas from Provence

In the white wooden stable
There he is, the divine child,
Between the red-haired ox
And the little donkey with the soft eye
And the whimpering child murmurs in his sleep:
" The jealous are fools
Humans, love each other "
But, on the joyful Christmas morning comes to an end
Then the little figurines
Return to the cardboard box
Naively devoutly
They will sleep in cotton
Dreaming of the sweet song
Christmas, merry Christmas,
Merry Christmas from Provence.
Sleep dear little figurines
In your cardboard box
Christmas, Christmas, Christmas.

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