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...