Text: Barbra Streisand. Clopin Clopant.

In France when one is walking sadly
They say he walks clopin clopant
His step is slow, his fault is badly
Perhaps the one he loves is gone

Clopin clopant, I hear his footsteps
As in the night he passes by
And as I hear his endless footsteps
I get to thinking there go I

I'll go along, clopin clopant
Whispering he's gone, he is gone, he is gone
My childish heart cries like a baby
Without my love what will each day be?

So I go on, clopin clopant
Trudging alone, clopin clopant
Love is a dance and one must learn it
I had my chance, why did I spurn it?

What can I do? Why carry on?
Going alone, clopin clopant
Clopin clopant, clopin clopant