(B. Coquatrix, P. Dudan & K. Goell)

In France when one is walking sadly
They say he goes Clopin Clopant
His step is slow, he faulters badly
Perhaps the one he loves is gone
Clopin Clopant I hear his footsteps
As in the night he passes by
And as I hear his aimless footsteps
I get to thinking there go I
I go along Clopin Clopant
Whispering he's gone, he is gone, he is gone
My jealous heart cries like a baby
Without his love what will each day be?
So I go on Clopin Clopant
Trudging along Clopin Clopant
Love is a dance and one must learn it
I had my chance, why did I spurn it?
What can I dobut carry on?
Going along Clopin Clopant, Clopin Clopant, Clopin Clopant...