I met her out in Paris, France,
in a bar where I took a glance,
and standing nearby, just by chance,
I saw her dance, I saw her dance.
I didn’t want that bar to leave,
so very young, and so naïve.
I fell in love that Mayday eve,
I do believe, I do believe.
I went back the following night,
hoping to see her wondrous sight,
and she was standing in the light,
to my delight, to my delight.
I dared to ask her for a dance,
I held her closely, in a trance,
could I risk it, and take a chance
on May romance, on May romance?
We met next day and toured the Seine,
on Bateaux Mouche, and back again,
we shared a brolly in the rain.
It was insane, it was insane!
We climbed the Eiffel Tower easy,
lunched when it became quite breezy,
in Fouquet’s on Champs Élysées –
nowhere sleazy, nowhere sleazy!
In the Louvre we saw a painting,
of a goddess entertaining,
Such a beauty without tainting.
Felt like fainting, felt like fainting!
She looked like her in ev’ry way,
with lips so full and dressed so gay,
and I had loved them both in May
just for a day, just for a day.
I took her on to a night club,
basic and much more like a pub,
we sat by a May flower shrub.
Aye, there’s the rub, aye there’s the rub!
I was allergic, I did sneeze,
that flower really makes me wheeze,
I sneezed and then fell to my knees,
Those hawthorn trees! Those hawthorn trees!
While on my knees, well look you now,
I took her hand and told her how
I’d love her ever, mopped my brow.
Oh what a vow! Oh what a vow!
We went out for almost a year,
holidayed up in Val D’Isère,
but I never was a skier,
too full of fear, too full of fear!
But when she was out on the slopes,
she met a skier, good with ropes,
he made her laugh, he dashed my hopes.
Look how he lopes, look how he lopes!
Into my heart she threw a lance,
told me that we’d had our last dance.
She ran away, without a glance.
End of romance, end of romance
© Jezebel Myschka