The girl of joy is beautiful
On the corner of the street over there
She has a clientele
Who fills her stocking
When her job ends
She goes off in turn
Looking for a little dream
At a ball in the suburbs
Her man is an artist
He's a funny little guy
An accordionist
Who knows how to play java
She listens to java
But she doesn't dance it
She doesn't even look at the dance floor
And her loving eyes
Follows the nervous game
And the dry, long fingers of the artist
It gets under her skin
From the bottom, from the top
She wants to sing
It's physical
Her whole being is tense
Her breath is suspended
She's a real musical freak
The girl of joy is sad
On the corner of the street over there
His accordionist
He left as a soldier
When they come back from the war
They will take a house
She will be the cashier
And he will be the boss
How beautiful life will be
They will be real pashas
And every evening for her
He will play java
She listens to java
That she hums softly
She sees her accordionist again
And her loving eyes
Follow the nervous playing
And the dry and long fingers of the 'artist
It gets under her skin
From below, from above
She wants to sing
It's physical
Her whole being is tense
br/>Her breath is suspended
She's a real music freak
The girl of joy is alone
On the corner of the street over there
The girls who make mouth
Men don't want her
And too bad if she dies
Her man won't come back
Goodbye to all the sweet dreams
Her life is screwed up
Yet her sad legs
Take her to the boui-boui
Or there's another artist
Who plays all night
She listens to java
She hears java
She closed her eyes
And her fingers are dry and nervous
It gets under her skin
From below, from above
She wants to scream
It's physical
So to forget
She started dancing, spinning
To the sound of the music
Stop!
br/>Stop the music!