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It isn't by chance I happen to be,
A femme fatale, the toast of Paris.
For over the noise, the talk and the smoke,
I'm good for a laugh, a drink or a joke
I walk in a room, a party or ball,
"Come sit over here" somebody will call.
"A drink for madame, a drink for us all!
But how many times I stop and recall.

Oh, the apple trees,
Blossoms in the breeze,
That we walked among,
Lying in the hay,
Games we used to play,
While the rounds were sung,
Only yesterday, when the world was young.

Wherever I go they mention my name,
And that in itself, is some sort of fame,
"Come by for a drink, we're having a game,"
Wherever I go I'm glad that I came.
The talk is gay, the company's fine,
There's laughter and lights, and glamour and wine,
And handsome men and some of them mine,
But often my eyes see a diff'rent shine.

Oh, the apple trees,
Sunlit memories,
Where the hammock swung,
On our backs we'd lie,
Looking at the sky,
Till the stars were strung,
Just a dream ago, when the world was young.

While sitting around we often recall
The laugh of the year the night of them all
The blonds who was so attractive that year
Some opening night that made us all cheer;
Remember that time we all got so tight
And Jacques and Antoine got into a fight
The gendarmes who came, passed out like a light
I laugh with the rest it's all very bright

Oh, the apple trees
And the hive of bees
Where we once got stung
Summers at Bordeau
Rowing at Bateau
Where the willow hung
Only last July when the world was young

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