In France when one is walking sadly They say he walks Clopin Clopant His step is slow, his fault is badly Perhaps the one he loves is gone Clopin Clopant I hear his footsteps As in the night he passes by And as I hear his endless footsteps I get to thinking they'll go out I'll go along Clopin Clopant Whispering he's gone, he is gone, he is gone My childish heart cries like a baby Without my love what will each day be ? So I go on Clopin Clopant Trudging alone Clopin Clopant Love is a dance and one must learn it I had my chance, why did I spurn it? What can I do? Why carry on? Going alone Clopin Clopant, Clopin Clopant, Clopin Clopant...
