Rues Des Blancs-manteaux

In the rue des blancs-manteaux

They raised a wooden stage

Threw some bran in a basket

And there was the scaffold

In the rue des blancs-manteaux



In the rue des blancs-manteaux

The executioner rose at dawn

He had a job to do

He must chop the generals, bishops and admirals too

In the rue des blancs-manteaux



Into the rue des blancs-manteaux

Came the well-bred women

With their precious jewels

But the heads they turned them

Rolling from on high

Heads stuck in their hats



In the gutter of the blancs-manteaux


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