作曲 : Ron Mael
作词 : Ron Mael
What do I hear, what do 
I hear? Chit-chat, and clinking glass 
Cheap talk, a lady's laugh 
After hour 
What do I see, what do 
I see? Some sunken hideaway 
Where people go to play 
After hour 
There I'll spend the night 
Meeting fancy thins 
At bistros and old haunts 
Trying very hard to sin 
Then it is day end in a way 
The pattern's much the same 
In-spots, a matinee 
Every day 
Blend with the crowd, blend with the loud 
Hypnotic ebb and flow 
Until the day goes slowly 
Into night 
See the same old crowd 
At bistros and old haunts '
Til the lights grow dim, 
The not-so-subtle hint to be gone [Chorus:] 
Thank God it's not 
Christmas 
When there is only you 
And nothing else to do 
Thank God it's not 
Christmas 
Where there's just you to do 
The rest is closed to public view 
Caroling kids, caroling kids 
A trifle premature, in tones so rich and pure and crystaline 
Call for the day, the popular day 
It's fast approaching now 
But will the mood allow 
One dissent 
If this were the 
Seine We'd be very suave 
But it's just the rain 
Washing down the boulevard [Chorus] 
Popular days, the popular ways 
Are for the chosen few 
Not meant for me and you 
Obviously 
Popular nights, poplar rites 
Great things to say and do 
Aren't said or done by you 
Obviously 
If this were 
Seine We'd be very suave 
But it's just the rain 
Washing down the boulevard