Le Petit Jardin

It was a small garden
That smelled of the metro
That smelled of the Parisian basin
It was a small garden
With a table and a garden chair
With two trees, an apple tree and a fir tree
At the end of a courtyard on the Chaussée d'Antin
But one day, near the garden
A man was passing by who, on the lapel of his jacket
Weared a concrete flower
In the garden, a voice sang

Please, please
Mr. Developer
Please, please
Preserve this grace
Please, please
Mr. Developer
Don't cut my flowers

It was a small garden
That smelled of the metro
That smelled of the Parisian basin
It was a small garden
With a robin in its fir tree
With a man tending his garden
At the end of a courtyard on the Chaussée d'Antin
But one day, near the garden
A man was passing by who, on the lapel of his jacket
Weared a concrete flower
In the garden, a voice sang

It was a small garden
That smelled of the Parisian basin
In place of the pretty little garden
There is the entrance to an underground passage
Where the cars of the urban center
Are lined up like cinder blocks
It was a small garden
At the end of a courtyard on the Chaussée d'Antin
It was a small garden
At the end of a courtyard on the Chaussée d'Antin