Has left her old companions
Lonely men with lonely eyes
Her streets are where they were,
but there's no sign of her.
The last time I saw Paris,
her heart was warm and gay.
I heard the laughter of her heart
The last time I saw Paris,
her trees were dressed for spring,
and lovers walked beneath those trees,
and birds found songs to sing.
I dodged the same old taxi cabs
that I had dodged for years.
The chorus of their squeaky horns
The last time I saw Paris,
her heart was young and gay.
No mat ter how they change her,
I'll remember her that way.
and people who shared them.
old women selling flowers
children who applauded punching
and those who danced at night
and kept their Paris bright
The last time I saw Paris,
her heart was warm and gay.
I heard the The of her heart
The last time I saw Paris,
her trees were dressed for spring.
And lovers walked beneath those trees,
and birds found songs to sing.
I dodged the same old taxi cabs
that I had dodged for years.
The chorus of their squeaky horns
The last time I saw Paris,
her heart was young and gay.
No matter how they change her,
I'll remember her that way.