Rue St vincent by Yves Montand (in translation)

She had under her furry hat,
on the hilltop Montmartre,
an innocent little look
People called her rose, she was pretty
she smelled good - like a new flower
Saint-Vincent street
She hadn't known her father
she had no mother
and since 1900,
she lived at her old foremother
Where she raised herself like that, all alone
Saint-Vincent street
She already worked to live
and on frosted nights
in the dark and freezing cold
her little scarf on her shoulders
she returned home by Saules street
Saint-Vincent street
She could see in the chilly nights
the starry sky,
and the crescent moon
shinning, white and fatal
on the small cross of the basilica
Saint-Vincent street
Summer, by the hot dusk
she met Jules,
who was so sweet
that she stayed the entire night,
with him near the old cemetery
Saint-Vincent street
And small Jules was a thug
who pimps the chicks
so the teenager,
seeing that she wouldn't accept to be a prostitute
by a hit of a blade pierced her stomach,
Saint-Vincent street.
When they laid her down in her coffin
she was all white,
while burying her,
the undertakers said that the poor child
was killed the night of her wedding ceremony
Saint-Vincent street
She had a pretty furry hat
on the hilltop Montmartre,
an innocent little look
People called her rose, she was pretty
she smelled good - like a new flower
Saint-Vincent street

A DARK DAY IN PARIS