It concerned a certain hunter named master Gervaise whose redoubtable rifle was to exterminate every last lion in Africa.
Sadly this rifle had a singular fault, although always loaded it never went off....

It never went off...

you will understand the allusion.

This song achieved instant popularity, and when Tartarin was passing, the stevedores on the quay and the grubby urchins hanging round his door would chant this insulting little ditty...

only they sang it from a safe distance because of the double muscles.
The great man himself pretended to see nothing, to hear nothing.
Although at heart this underhand, venomous campaign hurt him deeply, in spite of his suffering, he continued to go about his life with a smile; but sometimes the mask of cheerful indifference which pride had pinned on his features slipped, then instead of laughter one saw indignation and grief.