Shall I, wasting in despair,Die because a woman’s fair?Or make pale my cheeks with care,’Cause another’s rosy are?Be she fairer than the day,Or the flowery meads in May,If she be not so to me,What care I how fair she be?
In Paris a queer little man you may see, A little man all in gray; Rosy and round as an apple is he, Content with the present whate'er it may be, While from care and from cash he is equally free, And merry both night and day! "Ma foi! I laugh at the world." says he, "I laugh at the world, and the world laughs at me!" What a gay little man in gray.pierre-jean de béranger
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