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It was Montmartre |
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It was midnight |
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Come to think of it |
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It was spring |
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There was music |
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I was listening |
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Then in the room somewhere someone began to sing |
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This melody made for remembering |
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A small cafe, mam'selle |
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Our rendezvous, mam'selle |
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The violins were warm and sweet and so were you, mam'selle |
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And as the night danced by |
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A kiss became a sigh |
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Your lovely eyes |
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Seem to sparkle just like wine does |
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No heart ever yearned the way that mine does, for you |
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And yet I know too well |
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Someday we'll say goodbye |
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Then violins will cry |
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And so will I, mam'selle. |
