Madame Ivonne

Miss Ivonne was a young girl
who in the real neighborhood of old Montmartre,
with her tough look of a cheerful girl
livened up the party at Les Quatre Arts.
She was the doll of the Latin Quarter
who knew how to inspire the points of the verse...
But it was that one day an Argentine arrived
and made the French girl sigh.

Madame Ivonne,
the Southern Cross was like the sign,
Madame Ivonne,
it was like the sign of your luck...
Grey lark,
your pain moves me,
your sorrow is of snow...
Madame Ivonne...

Ten years have passed since she set sail from France,
Miss Ivonne is now just Madam...
She sees that everything remained in the distance
with very sad eyes she drinks her champagne.
She is no longer the doll of the Latin Quarter,
she is no longer the mistonga little flower of lilies,
nothing is left for her... Not even that Argentine
who, between tango and mate, lifted her from Paris