Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Quiet Days in Clichy, artist - Country Joe McDonald. Album song Into The Fray, in the genre
Date of issue: 14.07.1981
Record label: Rag Baby
Song language: English
Quiet Days in Clichy |
Come on people and listen to me |
I tell you the story of Carl and Joey. |
The girls they fucked and the women they layed |
This is the story of the love they made. |
Don’t get excited, be patient, please |
Just put your hand on your lover’s knees. |
And during the movie, if you get a chance, |
Put your hand inside her pants. |
Oh, quiet days in Clichy |
Oh, quiet days in Clichy |
Now perhaps you are ready to see |
The story of the place Clichy |
So come and let us spend a while |
With Joey and his french friend Carl. |
Oh, quiet days in Clichy |
Oh, quiet days in Clichy |
There were two girls from the café, |
We picked both of them up one day. |
We took both of them to our flat |
And the red-headed one gave Carl the clap. |
Oh quiet days in Clichy |
Oh quiet days in Clichy. |
The dark-haired girl took off her shoe |
She smiled at Joey and then she was through. |
He tried everything but just as luck |
The one from Jamaica just wouldn’t fuck. |
Oh quiet days in Clichy |
Oh quiet days in Clichy. |
The sad-eyed girl from the grocery store, |
Her American husband didn’t love her anymore. |
He deserted her, he vanished away |
And she wants to speak English now night and day. |
Oh quiet days in Clichy |
Oh quiet days in Clichy. |
They would go to a movie and then for a walk |
And to the apartment for some fun and talk. |
She would sleep with one or she would sleep with the other, |
As long as they spoke English it really didn’t matter. |
Oh quiet days in Clichy |
Oh quiet days in Clichy. |
Little Colette she has no sense |
Serving the breakfast without her pants |
Spoiling the coffee, burning the eggs, |
All of her brains are between her legs. |
Oh quiet days in Clichy |
Oh quiet days in Clichy. |
Baby Colette she’s all grown up |
Sweeping the floor and washing the tub |
Cleaning the dishes and ironing the clothes |
What she’s thinking, God only knows. |
Oh quiet days in Clichy |
Oh quiet days in Clichy. |
Then there was Jean from the Herald Tribune |
Bringing bottles of wine up to their room. |
They could squeeze her tits and rub her crack, |
But the thought of fucking drove her quite mad. |
Oh quiet days in Clichy |
Oh quiet days in Clichy. |
At the thought of a cock inside her cunt |
She would always begin to smash the place up. |
She would weep and screech and scream and cry |
And then come back for another try. |
Oh quiet days in Clichy |
Oh quiet days in Clichy |
Oh quiet days in Clichy. |
Oh quiet days in Clichy |
Oh quiet days in Clichy. |