Lovers in the rain and flowers in the stall
On the rue Madeleine near the Place Pigalle,
How amusing
When the gypsies stole our wine.
Remember
Notre Dame where we chatted with the hunchback,
The dim café where we had to send the lunch back.
Ah! Paris in the spring!
It was all too, too divine.
Another song about Paris.
Is there room for one more?
Is there really a note or a word we all haven't before?
Is there one thing about Paris
Left to sing, left to say?
Though they still may be gay
On the rue de la Paix
Near the Champs-Elysées
In that sidewalk café
Where Maurice Chevalier
Ordered café au lait,
I'm afraid that today
It's become—how you say?—
More or less a cliché.
To sing a song about Paris.
Charming though it may be,
Another song about Paris
Is like another cup of water in the sea.
So spare us
Another song about Paris,
'Cause all the songs about Paris,
Sounds exactly the same
To me.

Pigeons on the grass on the rue Soufflot,
Pigeons under glass at the Deux Magots.
How confusing
When we couldn't find Montmartre.
Remember
The small hotel where we didn't tip the waiter,
The we felt when we met the waiter later.
Ah! Breakfast at Maxim's!
It was toujours à la carte.
I could sing songs about Paris
'Til I ran out of breath.
I defy you to find me just one
It's all been said about Paris.
Let it lie, let it be!
Though they still say "ooi oui"
And they sigh "c'est la vie"
As they gulp their Chablis
On the rue Rivoli
I'm afraid, mon ami,
One more gay melody
Sung for Lady Paree
Is a fait accompli,
A cold cup of tea.
There's nothing wrong about Paris,
It's a nice place to be.
You may feel strong about Paris
And maybe fifty million Frenchmen will agree.
But spare us
Another song about Paris,
'Cause all the songs about Paris
Sound exactly the same
To me.
Merci.