Marie Marie

At Easter or halfway through Lent
When I'll be set free
When I'll have served my time
Oh, how I'll come to kiss you
In our English garden
The roses must have bloomed again
If you were to bring some to my mother
It would please me greatly

Marie, Marie
Write more often
Marie, Marie
At fourteen thousand two hundred

I work at the library
I make up some good times
I have as friends all the poets
Baudelaire, Chateaubriand
For us here, whatever people may think
They are truly very kind
We have dessert on Sundays
Fish on Fridays

Marie, Marie
Write more often
Marie, Marie
At fourteen thousand two hundred

At Easter or halfway through Lent
The time will surely come again
When you can say I love you
At fourteen thousand two hundred