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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," |
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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 |
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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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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 |