A lady known as Paris,
Romantic and charming,
Has left her old companions and faded from view.

Lonely men with lonely eyes are seeking in vain,
Her streets are where they were, but there’s no sign of her
She has left the Seine.

The last time I saw Paris
Her heart was warm and gay,
I heard the laughter of her heart in ev’ry street café.

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 was music to my ears.

The last time I saw Paris
Her heart was warm and gay.
No matter how they change her I’ll remember her that way.

I’ll think of happy hours,
And people who shared them:
Old women selling flowers in markets at dawn.

Children who applauded Punch and Judy in the park,
And those who danced at night, and kept their Paris bright
Till the Town went dark.

The last time I saw Paris
Her heart was warm and gay,
I heard the laughter of her heart in ev’ry street café.

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 was music to my ears.

The last time I saw Paris
Her heart was warm and gay.
No matter how they change her I’ll remember her that way.