(Ah, the Apple Trees) When the World Was Young

It isn't by chance I happen to be a boulevardier, the

toast of

Paree,

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 of all, come sit over here,

somebody

will call

A drink for monsieur, a drink for us all, but how many

times, I

sat and recall.

Are the apple trees, blossoms in the breeze that we

walk

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 glamor and wine.

And beautiful girls and summer's been mine, but often

my

eyes see a different shine.

Are the apple trees, sunlit memories, where the hammock

swung,

On our backs sweet lie, looking at the sky, till the

stars were

strung

Only last July when the world was young.