It was a teenage wedding
And the old folks wished 'em well,
You could see that Pierre
Did truly love the Mademoiselle,
And now the young Monsieur and Madame
Have rung the chapel bell,
"C'est la vie,"
- Say the old folks,
It goes to show
You never can tell.
They furnished off an apartment
With a two room Roebuck sale,
The coolerator was crammed
With T.V. dinners and ginger ale.
But when Pierre found work,
The little money comin' worked out well,
"C'est la vie,"
- Say the old folks,
It goes to show
You never can tell.
They had a Hi-Fi phono,
Boy, did they let it blast,
Seven hundred little recocds
All rockin' rhythm and jazz.
But when the sun went down,
The rapid tempo of the music fell,
"C'est la vie,"
- Say the old folks,
It goes to show
You never can tell.
They bought a souped up jitney,
'Twas a cherry red Fifty-nine,
They drove it down to New Orleans
To celebrate their anniversary.
It was there where Pierre was wedded
To the lovely Mademoiselle,
"C'est la vie,"
- Say the old folks,
It goes to show
You never can tell.
