Les Cigales d'Avignon
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We took the train from Paris
Everybody there spoke French
It’s the painter’s and the poet’s mother tongue
We sat back in the carriage
With brie and a baguette
And headed for a short break in the sun
We hired a Renault Clio
Like Papa and Nicole
Drove all the way to the Plage de Piemanson
Fifty miles from Saintes-Maries
A hundred mobile homes
Lined up like nuclear driftwood on the shore
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And the world threw down a summer
The sun and the wind
You can feel the breath of heaven on your bones
Throw back the shutter
The wind and the sun
And sing with Les Cigales d’Avignon
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They love a tree-lined avenue
Everywhere you go in France
An honour guard that marched us to Uzes
In the squares they play the rumba
And every man’s a prince
And we drank a beer or two but I digress
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Lussan’s a floating island
In the sea of the Cevennes
I could feel the foothills calling me
To come back home again
They say that if you slow down
The sound of the cicada
You can hear a monkish choir singing low
A hundred thousand insects
A hundred thousand martyrs
A hundred thousand transmigrated souls
© MarkGSongs 2018