Le Pont de Courthézon

A spot in the sun not far from Marseille,
A little village lost in Provence,
A region in France where even at Christmas,
It feels like summer vacation, remember?

At the fountain's water, you come to fill your jug,
You never have a care, the weather's too nice.
In my region, there's the scent of melons,
The song of the cicadas and the Mistral breeze.

In my house in Courthézon,
The kids sing, sing their songs,
And on the bridge of Courthézon,
The kids dance, dance all around.

I know the name of the first of the santons,
His dad's a winemaker, I remember well,
We haven't parted since kindergarten,
And for him, I still go by Michèle.

I’d trade Paris, Venice, and Miami
For a handful of dirt from my Provence.
I love its wildflowers and the village folks
Who still have the accent from my childhood.

It's a love story, I’ll always come back
To this garden where I left my heart.
In the midday sun, I have only friends
Who are waiting for me at my happiness.