Standard (EADGBE)

What do I hear, what do I hear?

Chit-chat, and clinking glass

Cheap talk, a lady's laugh

After hours

What do I see, what do I see?

Some sunken hideaway

Where people go to play

After hours

There I'll spend the night

Meeting fancy things

At bistros and old haunts

Trying very hard to

sin

Then it is day end in a way

The pattern's much the same

In-spots, a matinee

Every day

Blend with the crowd, blend with the loud

Hypnotic ebb and flow

Until the day goes slowly

Into night

See the same old crowd

At bistros and old haunts

'Til the lights grow dim,

The not-so-subtle hint to be

gone

Chorus

Thank God it's not Christmas

When there is

only you, and nothing else to do

Thank God it's not Christmas

Where there's just

you to do. The rest is closed to public

view

Caroling kids, caroling kids

A trifle premature,

in tones so rich and pure and

crystalline

Call for the day, the popular day

It's fast approaching now

But will the mood allow

One dissent

If this were the Seine

We'd be very suave

But it's just the rain washing down the

boulevard

Chorus

Popular days, the popular ways

Are for the chosen few

Not meant for me and you

Obviously

Popular nights, poplar rites

Great things to say and do

Aren't said or done by you

Obviously

If this were Seine

We'd be very suave

But it's just the rain washing down the

boulevard