Oh, my Paname, how far you are
For the girls of bad life,
And how pretty the Seine was
Under the June sun,
Under the sunshine of June.
Deep in old Sidney,
Under the railway bridge,
We have just done our business
To Marie la Française.
br/>Don't be surprised
Because, with the matafs,
As soon as they are a little paf
It's better to hide your weight.
Eighty-five dollars,
It's a bargain on a night of partying
When we've just docked.
After two months without women
They don't couldn't know
That she was crazy enough
To put that aside
To see Notre-Dame again.
Oh, my Paname, that you are far away
For the girls of bad life
And how pretty the Seine was
Under the sun of June,
Under the sun of June.
At the Sidney cemetery,
A pastor, passing by,
Mutters with disdain
An English prayer.
No wonder :
Among right-thinking people,
No one cares
About French Marie.
Only a little old woman
Will continue to believe
That with a very chic man
Her daughter is married
And on sunny days,
In her rue Rochechouart,
Will think of the Americas
Marie forgot her...
Oh, my Paname, how far you are
For the girls of bad life
And how pretty the Seine was
br/>Under the June sun,
Under the June sun.

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