Mademoiselle de Paris

They call her Miss Paris
And her life is a little like ours
Her kingdom is Rue de Rivoli
Her destiny is to dress others
They say she's a seamstress
And if it's true that she's not tall
How many bouquets and garlands
Has she scattered on our paths

She sings a tune from her neighborhood
She dreams of love vows
She cries, more often than not
Miss Paris
She gives all the talent she has
To throw a ball at the Opera
And hurries to the Lilas gate
Miss Paris
The weather is nice
And up there
She'll sew a heart on her coat

But the heart of a Parisian girl
Is like bouquets of violets
It's pinned to her bodice on a Saturday
And lost at the fair on Sunday
Goodbye dance hall, goodbye boy
Here she is alone with her sorrow
And the week starts again
And the song starts again

She sings a tune from her neighborhood
She dreams of love vows
She cries, more often than not
Miss Paris
She gives a bit of her twenties
To create a spring collection
And goes alone to dream on a bench
Miss Paris

Three little turns
A hello
She forgets she cried for love
She sings and her heart is happy
She dreams and her dream is all blue
She cries but it's not very serious
Miss Paris

She walks with quick little steps
She runs towards the Champs Elysées
And gives a bit of her lunch
To the sparrows of the Tuileries
She hums
She smiles...
And there's Miss Paris.