| It isn’t by chance I happen to be
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| A boulevardier, the toast of Paris
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| For over the noise, the talk and the smoke
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| I’m good for a laugh, a drink or a jokeI walk in a room, a party or ball
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| «Come sit over here» somebody will call
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| «A drink for M’sieur, a drink for us all!
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| But how many times I stop and recall
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| Ah, the apple trees
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| Blossoms in the breeze
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| That we walked among
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| Lying in the hay
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| Games we used to play
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| While the rounds were sung
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| Only yesterday, when the world was young
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| Wherever I go they mention my name
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| And that in itself, is some sort of fame
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| «Come by for a drink, we’re having a game, «Wherever I go I’m glad that I came
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| The talk is quite gay, the company fine
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| There’s laughter and lights, and glamour and wine
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| And beautiful girls and some of them mine
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| But often my eyes see a diff’rent shine
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| Ah, the apple trees
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| Sunlit memories
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| Where the hammock swung
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| On our backs we’d lie
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| Looking at the sky
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| Till the stars were strung
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| Only last July when the world was young
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| Ah, the apple trees
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| Blossoms in the breeze
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| That we walked among
|
| Lying in the hay
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| Games we used to play
|
| While the rounds were sung
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| Only yesterday, when the world was young
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| While sitting around, we often recall
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| The laugh of the year, the night of them all
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| The blonde who was so attractive that year
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| Some opening night that made us all cheer
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| Remember that time we all got so tight
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| And Jacques and Antoine got into a fight
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| The gendarmes who came, passed out like a light
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| I laugh with the rest, it’s all very bright |