Текст песни
A boulevardier, the toast of Paris
For over the noise, the talk and the smoke
I'm good for a laugh, a drink or a joke
I walk in a room, a party or ball
"Come sit over here" somebody will call
"A drink for M'sieur, a drink for us all!
But how many times I stop and recall
Ah, the apple trees
Blossoms in the breeze
That we walked among
Lying in the hay
Games we used to play
While the rounds were sung
Only yesterday, when the world was young
Wherever I go they mention my name
And that in itself, is some sort of fame
“Come by for a drink, we're having a game,"
Wherever I go I'm glad that I came
The talk is quite gay, the company fine
There's laughter and lights, and glamour and wine
And beautiful girls and some of them mine
But often my eyes see a diff'rent shine
Ah, the apple trees
Blossoms in the breeze
That we walked among
Lying in the hay
Games we used to play
While the rounds were sung
Only yesterday, when the world was young
Ah, the apple trees
Sunlit memories
Where the hammock swung
On our backs we'd lie
Looking at the sky
Till the stars were strung
Only last July when the world was young
While sitting around, we often recall
The laugh of the year, the night of them all
The blonde who was so attractive that year
Some opening night that made us all cheer
Remember that time we all got so tight
And Jacques and Antoine got into a fight
The gendarmes who came, passed out like a light
I laugh with the rest, it's all very bright
Ah, the apple trees
Sunlight memories
Where the hammock swung
On our backs we'd lie
Looking at the sky,
'Til the stars were strung
Only last July when the world was young
You'll see me in Cape D'Antibes, or in Spain,
I follow the sun by boat or by plane,
It's any old millionaire in a storm,
For I've got my mink to keep my heart warm:
And sometimes I drink too much with the crowd,
And, sometimes I talk a little too loud,
My head may be aching, but it's unbowed,
And sometimes I see it all through the clouds
Ah, the apple trees,
And the hive of bees,
Where we once got stung,
Summers at Bordeau:
Rowing at bateau,
Where the willow hung,
Just a dream ago, when the world was young
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