The Parisians

A necklace is love,
A ring is love,
A rock from some abnoxious little king is love,
A diamond studded star is love,
A ugly black cigar is love,
Everything you are is love,
You'd think it would embarrass all the people here in Paris,
To be thinking every minute of love.

I don't understand the Parisians,
Making love every time they have the chance,
I don't understand the Parisians,
Wasting every lovely night on romance.

Any time,
And under every tree and town,
Their incession two by two,
What a crime,
With all there is to see in town,
They can't find something else to do.

I don't understand how Parisians,
Never tire of walking hand in hand,
But they seem to love it,
And speak highly of it,
I don't understand the Parisians.

I don't understand the Parisians,
Making all this to do about La'more,
I don't understand the Parisians,
All this la-di-da is so immature,

When it's warm,
They take good care outside at night,
Close their eyes,
Hug,
And kiss,

When It's cold,
They simply move inside at night,
There must be more to let them miss.

I don't understand the Parisians,
Thinking love's so maraculous,
And grand,
But they rave about it,
Amd won't live without it,
I don't understand the Parisians...