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It was party at the galette
On the hill at the moulin
Margot the redhead
Lison the sweet
They looked beautiful in the morning
In carmagnole
In cart
We escaped from Paris
By three or four
To the Montmartre
Where the air was pretty
The lady of the camellias was leaving
When i think it
In trip at Grenelle
Then the city pushed its districts, its alleys
To the wings of moulin
It was party at the galette
It was already to Renoir
There where lined hundred feet of wines
Rose make herself the sidewalk
Then artist, then tourist
And then the world grew
The old village
Near the clouds
Is became Paris
Let's party at the galette
On the hill at mill
Life is beautiful under the arbours
And it's soon morning
The waltz rolling and the wine flowing
Like the seine at Paris
When it's party at the galette
It's party of life
When it's party at the galette
It's party at Paris
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