But where are the snows of yester year?

Good talkers are only found in Paris.

Blonde or brunette, this rhyme applies, happy is he who knows them not

But where are the snows of yesteryear?

Ah God! Had I but studied in the days of my foolish youth

My days are gone a-wandering.

I know everything except myself

We were two and had but one heart between us

Brother humans who live after us, do not harden your hearts against us.