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Göttingen

Of course, it's not la Seine
 
It's not Vincennes' wood,
 
But it is pretty anyway
 
In Göttingen, in Göttingen.
 
No quays, and no old tunes
 
moaning and dragging on
 
But love still blossoms here
 
In Göttingen, in Göttingen.
 
They know better that us, I think,
 
The history of the kings of France
 
Herman, Peter, Helga and Hans,
 
In Göttingen.
 
Don't get offended,
 
But the tales of our childhood,
 
"Once upon a time" start
 
In Göttingen.
 
Of course, we have la Seine
 
And our Vincennes' wood,
 
But God, the roses are beautiful
 
In Göttingen, in Göttingen.
 
We have our pale mornings,
 
The grey soul of Verlaine,
 
Them, they are melancholy itself
 
In Göttingen, in Göttingen.
 
When they don't have anything to say,
 
They stay here and smile to us
 
But we understand them anyway
 
The blond children of Göttingen.
 
Too bad for those who are stunned
 
May the others forgive me,
 
But children are the same,
 
In Paris or in Göttingen.
 
May never come back
 
The time of blood and hatred
 
Because there are people I love
 
In Göttingen, in Göttingen.
 
When would ring the alarm
 
If we had to take up arms again
 
My heart would shed a tear
 
For Göttingen, for Göttingen.
 
But still, it is pretty
 
In Göttingen, in Göttingen.
 
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Göttingen

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