The last time I saw Paris, her heart was warm and gay, I heard the laughter of her heart in every street cafe The last time I saw Paris, her trees were dressed for spring, And lovers walked beneath those trees and birds found songs to sing.
I dodged the same old taxicabs that I had dodged for years. The chorus of their squeaky horns was music to my ears. The last time I saw Paris, her heart was warm and gay, No matter how they change her, I'll remember her that way.
The last time I saw Paris, her heart was warm and gay, No matter how they change her, I'll remember her that way. That way.