It was a kid, a rascal of Paris, <br /> <br />It was a kid, a rascal of Paris, <br />For family it had his mother qu ' <br />A poor ox-eyed girl reddened, <br />By grief and misery <br />She liked flowers, roses especially, <br />And the dear kid every Sunday <br />He brought nice pink half notes, <br />Instead of buying playthings <br />Fondling it very tenderly, <br />He said by giving them to him: <br /> <br />' It is today on Sunday, yours my pretty mum <br />Here are pink half notes, you who likes them so much <br />Go when I shall be big, I shall buy from the trader <br />All her pink half notes, for you pretty mum ' <br /> <br />Last spring, violent destiny, <br />The working fair-haired woman came to knock <br />It felt sick and for the hospital, <br />The kid saw leaving his mother <br />A morning of April among the walkers <br />Having no more one under in its pocket <br />On a very trembling market the poor kid, <br />Furtively steals flowers <br />The trader having surprised it, <br />By lowering the head, he says to him: <br /> <br />' It is today on Sunday and I was going to see mum <br />I took these pink half notes she likes them so much <br />On her small white bed, over there it waits for me <br />I took these pink half notes, for my pretty mum ' <br /> <br />The trader full of emotion, slowly says him, <br />' Take them I give them to you ' <br />It embraced it and the child left, <br />Very radiant that they excuse it <br />Then to the hospital it came by running, <br />To give flowers to his mother <br />But by seeing it, a nurse, <br />Any bottom says to him ' You do not have mum anymore ' <br />And the kid kneeling said, <br />In front of the small white bed: <br /> <br />' It is today on Sunday, yours my pretty mum <br />Here are pink half notes, you who likes them so much <br />And when you will leave, in the big garden over there <br />All these pink half notes, you will take them '
