Oh poor Frankie's sleeping by the Seine

He's lost his way and the wayward artist's name is washed with the rain.

Now he cries out "We are here, this is the dogs. Our stars are lost."

But the pavement bares your name...down by the Seine.


La de da


I wouldn't have it any other way.


Oh Frankie you'll never know how you set young lovers on their toes

You've filled your cap with pennies from the proletariat.

Sleeping by the Seine.

The crowds are loud; the streets are black.

But still your painting stares from the tarmac

For now the moon shines bright upon these dark waters tonight.

Sleeping by the Seine.


Oh poor Frankie's sleeping by the Seine

He's lost his way and the wayward artist's name is washed with the rain.

Now he cries out "We are here, this is the dogs. Our stars are lost."

But the pavement bares your name...down by the Seine.

They chased you down the Rue de Mon

You were cursing like a scullion

You found your head stuck in a cloud

And you cried

"if it was a sunny day, all the cobbles would gleam down Back-hand Way"

We shout

"Tonight, the Seine is ours."


I wouldn't have it any other way.


Oh Frankie you'll never know how you set young lovers on their toes

You've filled your cap with pennies from the proletariat.

Sleeping by the Seine.

The crowds are loud; the streets are black.

But still your painting stares from the tarmac.

For now the moon shines bright upon these dark waters tonight.

Sleeping by the Seine.