They say the French are naughty They say the French are bad They all declare that over there, the French are going mad. They have a reputation of being very gay I just got back from Paris, and I just want to say: When they go parley-vee and parley-vou, This for me, zat for you, Fifty million Frenchmen can't be wrong. When they go Ohh la la la la la la la On the bully boulevard Fifty million Frenchmen can't be wrong. They shake-a the hand They shake-a the feet They roll ze eyes and kiss cafe right on the street Even though the Irish and the Dutch Say it don't amount to much Fifty million Frenchmen can't be wrong. All of our fashions come from gay Par-ee And if they come above the knee Fifty million Frenchmen can't be wrong. And if they give the world a new design To prove a lady has a spine Fifty million Frenchmen can't be wrong. They shorten them here, They shorten them there, And if her name is Teddy, they make Teddy bare. If they prefer to see their women dressed With more or less of less and less, Fifty million Frenchmen can't be wrong. When they put on a show, and it's a hit No one tries to censor it Fifty million Frenchmen can't be wrong. And when a book is selling at it's best It isn't stopped; it's not suppressed. Fifty million Frenchmen can't be wrong. Whenever they're dry For brandy or rye, To get it, they don't gave to give up their right eye. And when we brag about our liberty And they laugh at you and you and you and me Fifty million Frenchmen can't be wrong. In Viva la France They're full of romance You'll find policemen with embroidery on their pants. And when they start to sing the Marseillaise They sing it forty different ways Fifty million Frenchmen can't be wrong.
Next song alphabetically: For No Good Reason At All