Luba the Baroness Lyrics

Luba, it was only the finest wine
Means or no means, always the finest place to dine
Paris in the 60′s, you had three sons
Handsome husband by your side, I flirted with everyone
Your husband aging but vain, with the ladies was quite renowned
Author of books made famous on his years in the French underground
But you, Luba the baroness, it was really your blue blood
No one could touch you with kid gloves and no one ever should

And the hands of little Julian guide you well
Et le père de le petit Sébastian vous attend dans le ciel

Youngest son, Jerome, brighter than he could be
Preferred the darkened corners and was even a little too young for me
Tall and shy and crafty, he was oh so scholarly then
Got married later on, had a child by the name of Julian
The eldest, Jean François, with a mixture of sweetness and snobbery
Milk-fed by his mother on Russian aristocracy
With wits like sabre through silk, he was the wisest one
Married and remarried, had a child by the name of Sebastian

And the hands of little Julian guide you well
Et le père de le petit Sébastian vous attend dans le ciel

Ah, my sweet Christophe, you were only seventeen
First family dinner with the gypsies, finger chimes and tambourines
With candlelit eyes of experience, oh how you laughed at me
As I became rapidly foolish under your gaze and on red burgundy
In '69 your father died, I saw you in the years between
Handsome impetuous son of the rich
Taking care of your mother, the Queen
And you were married now as well, it was inevitable
Three day wedding in the south of France to an angel named Annabelle

Recently I was in France, I called you on the phone
Caught racing back through memories, Luba was at home
Voice sounded quite the same as we touched on the amenities
Suddenly it fell and shattered like a thousand broken Tiffany′s
In November, Jean François died, we were all there by his side
I saw you nodding and I cried, hard to keep these things inside
Where are you staying and how's your son?
You know we hardly told anyone
How long are you here, are you with someone?
Hold it, I'll put Christophe on the phone

Ah, my sweet Christophe, same damn voice
Hell of a way to become the eldest son, it′s true you had no choice
You and Annabelle, you must take care of her
Yes, I′ll be over later on and I'll bring my guitar
While going through things afterwards
A letter she wrote and never sent
A single phrase stood out to you
These are the words and how it went

It said, "The hands of little Julian guide me well
Et le père de le petit Sébastian vous attend dans le ciel"