À Saint-Germain-des-Prés

I live in Saint-Germain-des-Prés
And every night I meet up
With Verlaine
That old clown hasn’t changed
And to chase the thrill
By the Seine
Often we’re joined
By Apollinaire
Who comes to hang out
With our troubles
It’s silly, we just wanted to have fun
But it’s a bust
We were too broke

Look at them, all those punks
All those two-bit poets
And their pale faces
Look at them, all those broke folks
Who pretend they’ll never
Make it through the week
They’re rich as hell
Besides, they’re dying
All those broke rhymers
Still have plenty of dreams
They speak Latin
And aren’t hungry anymore
In Saint-Germain-des-Prés

If you pass by Abbey Street
Saint-Benoît Street, Visconti Street
By the Seine
Look at the guy who’s smiling
It’s Jean Racine or Valéry
Maybe Verlaine

Then you’ll understand,
You passersby,
Why these big broke guys
Make such a racket
It’s silly
You should’ve thought of that
Let’s greet them
In Saint-Germain-des-Prés