Oh, poor Frankie's sleeping by the seine
He's lost his way, and the wayward artist's name's
Washed with the rain
Now he cries out

We are here, this is the dogs
Our stars are lost, but the pavement bares your name
Down by the seine
La de da da
I wouldn't have it any other way
And so

Oh, Frankie, you'll never know just why you set young lovers on their toes
You've filled your cap with pennies from the proletariat
Sleeping by the Seine

The crowds are loud, the streets are black but still your paintings stare from the tarmac
For now the moon shines bright upon those dark waters tonight
Sleeping by the Seine

But they chased you down the rue de mon
You were cursing like a scullion
You found, your head stuck in a cloud
And you cried

If it was a sunny day
All the cobbles would gleam down back hand way
We shout, tonight, the Seine is ours