Van parti de Lioun à la primo aubo
Li veiturin que règnon sus lou Rose.
Es uno raço d’ome caloussudo,
Galoio e bravo, li condriéulen. Sèmpre
Planta sus li radèu e li sapino,
L’uscle dou jour e lou rebat de l’aigro
Lé dauron lou carage coume un brounze.
Mai d’aquéu tèms encaro mai, vous dise,
Lé vesias d’oumenas à barbo espresso,
Grand, courpourènt, clapu tau que de chaine,
Boulegant un saumié coume uno busco,
De pupo à pro cridant, jurant de-longo
E largamen, pèr se baia courage,
Au poutarras pintant la roujo tencho,
A beu taioun tirant la car de l’oulo.
De-long dou flume èro uno bramadisso
Que d’auro en auro entendias de-countuni :
« Pro vers la baisso, hou ! Reiaume ! Empèri !
Amount la pro ! Dau ! Fa tira la maio ! »

Ero Coundriéu soun nis, ounte s’amodon
De noste vènt-terrau li proumié boufe.

From Lyons at the blush of early dawn
The bargemen, masters of the Rhone, depart,
A robust band and brave, the Condrillots,
Upright upon their crafts of planks of fir,
The tan of the sun and glint from glassy wave
Their visages have bronzed as with gold.
And in that day colossuses they where,
Big, corpulent, and strong as living oaks,
And moving beams about as we would straws.
From stern to stem unceasingly they shout.
And now to gather courage for their task,
Approach from time ti time the steaming crock
To quaff from it deep draughts of red piot,
And snatch from other pots some shreds of meat.
A clamor thus alway adown the Rhone
Was heard from North to South without a truce :
« Ease off the prow again ! Royaume ! Empire !
The prow upstream ! Ho, lads ! Pull on the maille ! »

From Condrieu they were, where fist the gusts
Of chill mistral, South’s mighty wind, are felt.