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They call me coquette, and mademoiselle
And I must admit I like it quite well
It's something to be the darling of all
Le grande femme fatalethe the belle of the ball
There's nothing as gay as life in Paris
There's no other person, I'd rather be
I love what I do, I love what I see
But where is the schoolgirl that used to be me

Ah, 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 quite gay, the company's fine,
There's laughter and lights, and glamour and wine,
And beautiful men and some of them mine,
But often my eyes see a diff'rent shine.

Ah, the apple trees,
Sunlit memories,
Where the hammock swung,
On our backs we'd lie,
Looking at the sky,
While the stars were strung,
Only last July
When the world was young.

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