| I’m a legionnaire
|
| Camel in disrepair
|
| Hoping for a frigidaire to come passing by
|
| I am on reprieve
|
| Lacking my joie de vive
|
| Missing my gay Paris
|
| In the desert dry
|
| And I wrote my girl
|
| Told her I would not return
|
| I’ve terribly taken a turn
|
| For the worse now I fear
|
| It’s been a year or more
|
| Since they shipped me to this foreign shore
|
| Fighting in a foreign war
|
| So far away from my home
|
| If only summer rain would fall
|
| On the houses and the boulevards
|
| And the sidewalk bagatelles it' like a dream
|
| With the roar of cars
|
| And the lulling of the cafe bars
|
| The sweetly sleeping sweeping of the Seine
|
| Lord I don’t know if I’ll ever be back again
|
| Medicating in the sun
|
| Pinched doses of laudanum
|
| Longing for old fecundity of my homeland
|
| Curses to this mirage!
|
| A bottle of ancient Chiraz
|
| A smattering of distant applause
|
| Is ringing in my poor ears
|
| On the old left bank
|
| My baby in a charabanc
|
| Riding up the width and length
|
| Of the Champs Elysees
|
| If only summer rain would fall
|
| On the houses and the boulevards
|
| And the sidewalk bagatelles it’s like a dream
|
| With the roar of cars
|
| And the lulling of the cafe bars
|
| The sweetly sleeping sweeping of the Seine
|
| Lord I don’t know if I’ll ever be back again
|
| If only summer rain would fall
|
| On the houses and the boulevards
|
| And the sidewalk bagatelles it’s like a dream
|
| With the roar of cars
|
| And the lulling of the cafe bars
|
| The sweetly sleeping sweeping of the Seine
|
| Lord I don’t know if I’ll ever be back again. |