It was a teenage wedding,
|
and the old folks wished them well
|
You could see that Pierre
|
did truly love the mademoiselle
|
And now the young monsieur
|
and madame have rung the chapel bell,
|
"C'est la vie", say the old folks,
|
it goes to show you never can tell
|
|
They furnished off an apartment
|
with a two room Roebuck sale
|
The coolerator was crammed
|
with TV dinners and ginger ale,
|
But when Pierre found work,
|
the little money comin' worked out well
|
"C'est la vie", say the old folks,
|
it goes to show you never can tell
|
|
They had a hi-fi phono, boy, did they let it blast
|
Seven hundred little records,
|
all rock, rhythm and jazz
|
But when the sun went down,
|
the rapid tempo of the music fell
|
"C'est la vie", say the old folks,
|
it goes to show you never can tell
|
|
They bought a souped-up jitney,
|
'twas a cherry red '53,
|
They drove it down New Orleans
|
to celebrate their anniversary
|
It was there that Pierre was married
|
to the lovely mademoiselle
|
"C'est la vie", say the old folks,
|
it goes to show you never can tell
|
|
-----------------
|
You Never Can Tell
|
| Chuck Berry |
