Madelon

(Melody: "Quand Madelon")

A pace or two from the camp where soldiers

muster,

There is an inn that is called "The Poilus'
Rest"-

A modest house where the walls with ivy
cluster,

Between the wood and the field—a cozy nest.

The girl who waits on us is pleasing,
Like sparkling wine, her eyes in fun.
She hardly halts to hear our teasing-
She's only known as Madelon.

All through our dreams at night, all through
our day's dull chance,

She's only Madelon, perhaps but she's
Romance.

CHORUS

When Madelon comes tripping to our table,
We boldly pluck her skirt as she goes by;
And each one invents a pretty fable,
Told to win her on the sly.

Our Madelon is not a surly beauty,

So, when we chuck her chin to lead her on, She just laughs, and feels she's done her duty

Madelon-Madelon-Madelon!

Well, ev'ry soldier has got at home his dearest,

The girl who waits, knowing some day she'll
be his;

But she's so far, while our Madelon is nearest
To catch the true, longing message of our kiss.
Slow run the hours we pass here lonely,
And as the days drag on and on,
The words we meant to tell one only,
We tell instead to Madelon.

She chides our rough embrace and says, we
muss her hair;

We laugh and think of her who's waiting over there.-CHORUS:

English Translation by MRS. F. C. FAY, Copyright 1918