On the old Boul. Mich, of student days, you saw
his red and blue; Did you come to love the fantassin, le p'tit
He has gone, gone, vanished, like a dream of
yesternight; He is out among the hedges where the shrapnel
smoke is white; And some of him are singing still and some of him
are dead, And blood and mud and sweat and smoke have
stained his blue and red, He is out among the hedges and the ditches in the
rain, But, when the soixante-quinzes are hushed, just
hark! the old refrain, "Si tu veux faire mon bonheur, Marguerite, O
Marguerite," Ringing clear above the rifles and the trampling
of the feet.
Ah, may le bon Dieu send him back again in blue and red,
With his queer, quaint kepi at an angle on his head.
So the Seine shall laugh again beneath the sun- light's quick caress;
So the Meudon woods shall echo once again to "La Jeunesse."