. Papy Jeanmarry Chante Mademoiselle De Paris.
It is called Mademoiselle de Paris
And his life is a little bit ours
His kingdom is the Rue de Rivoli
His destiny is to dress the other
They say it's small hand
And while it is true that it is not great
What bouquets and garlands
Did she planted on our paths.

She sings a tune of his suburb
She dreams to vows of love
She cries more often than
Miss of Paris
It gives all the talent it has
To make a ball at the Opera
And took it to the Porte des Lilas
Miss of Paris
The weather is great
And up
She'll sew a heart with her coat

But the heart of a child of Paris
It is similar to violets
It attaches to the bodice Saturday
On Sunday the party is lost
Tavern Farewell, farewell boy
There she is alone with his pain
And again the week
And again the song

She sings a tune of his suburb
She dreams to vows of love
She cries more often than
Miss of Paris
She gives a little of his twenty years
To make your spring collection
And only dream goes on a bench
Miss of Paris
Three small towers
Greetings
She forgets that she cried for love
She sings and his heart is pleased
Her dream and his dream is blue
She cries but it is not very serious
Miss of Paris
It flies in small steps hurry
She runs to the Champs Elysées
And gives a little lunch
Sparrows Tuileries
She hums
She smiles...
And that Mademoiselle de Paris.