Oh, poor Frankie's sleeping by the seine He's lost his way, and the wayward artist's name's Washed with the rain Now he cries out
We are here, this is the dogs Our stars are lost, but the pavement bares your name Down by the seine La de da da I wouldn't have it any other way And so
Oh, Frankie, you'll never know just why you set young lovers on their toes You've filled your cap with pennies from the proletariat Sleeping by the Seine
The crowds are loud, the streets are black but still your paintings stare from the tarmac For now the moon shines bright upon those dark waters tonight Sleeping by the Seine
But they chased you down the rue de mon You were cursing like a scullion You found, your head stuck in a cloud And you cried
If it was a sunny day All the cobbles would gleam down back hand way We shout, tonight, the Seine is ours
