Rue des blancs-manteaux

In the Rue des Blancs-Manteaux
They raised a wooden stage
Threw some bran in a basket
And there was the scaffold
In the Rue des Blancs-Manteaux

In the Rue des Blancs-Manteaux
The executioner rose at dawn
He had a job to do
He must chop the generals, bishops and admirals too
In the Rue des Blancs-Manteaux

Into the Rue des Blancs-Manteaux
Came the well-bred women
With their precious jewels
But the heads they turned them
Rolling from on high
Heads stuck in their hats

In the gutter of the Blancs-Manteaux



Credits
Writer(s): Joseph Kosma, Jean-paul Sartre
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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