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 aimless footsteps
I get to thinking there go I
I 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

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