Raspberries, Strawberries

A young man goes to Paris, as every young man should
There's something in the air of France that does a young man good
Ah! les fraises et les fromboises et les bon vins (que) nous avons bus

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
Raspberries, strawberries, the good wines we brew
Here's to the girls of the countryside, the ones we drink 'em to

Paris nights are warm and fair. The summer winds are soft
A young man finds the face of love in every field and loft
In every field and loft

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
Raspberries, strawberries, the good wines we brew
Here's to the girls of the countryside, the ones we drink 'em to

An old man returns to Paris as every old man must
He finds the winter winds blow cold. His dreams have turned to dust
His dreams have turned to dust. His dreams have turned to dust

Ah! les fraises et les fromboises et les bon vins que nous avons bus
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
Raspberries, strawberries, the good wines we brew
Here's to the girls of the countryside, whom we must bid adieu