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Old age doth in sharp pains abound; Alas! my fifty years are past!
— Pierre-Jean de Béranger
Old age doth in sharp pains abound; Alas! my fifty years are past!
Ye Gods! but she is wondrous fair! And I, so plain a man am I!
In Paris a queer little man you may see,What a gay little man in gray.
Adieu! 'tis love's last greeting, To seek its starry home.
Each year his mighty armies marched forth in gallant show,Their enemies were targets, their bullets they were tow.
Gaily! gaily! close our ranks!Onward! Onward! Gauls and Franks!
