Oh, Mademoiselle from Armentare, parlay voo.
Oh, Mademoiselle from Armentare, parlay voo.
She got the Palm and the Craw de Gare,
For washing soldiers’ underwear.
Hinky, dinky, parlay voo.
You didn’t have to know her long, parlay voo.
You didn’t have to know her long, parlay voo.
You didn’t have to know her long,
To know the reason men go wrong.
Hinky, dinky, parlay voo.
She’s the hardest working girl in town, parlay voo.
She’s the hardest-working girl in town, parlay voo.
She’s the hardest-working girl in town,
But she makes her living upside down.
Hinky, dinky, parlay voo.
She’ll do it for wine, she’ll do it for rum, parlay voo.
She’ll do it for wine, she’ll do it for rum, parlay voo.
She’ll do it for wine, she’ll do it for rum,
And sometimes for chocolate or chewing gum.
Hinky, dinky, parlay voo.
The cooties rambled through her hair, parlay voo.
The cooties rambled through her hair, parlay voo.
The cooties rambled through her hair –
She whispered sweetly, ‘Say la gare.’
Hinky, dinky, parlay voo.
She never could hold the love of man, parlay voo.
She never could hold the love of man, parlay voo.
She never could hold the love of man,
Cause she took her baths in a talcum can.
Hinky, dinky, parlay voo.
My froggy girl was true to me, parley voo.
My froggy girl was true to me, parley voo.
She was true to me, she was true to you,
She was true to the whole damn army too.
Hinky, dinky, parlay voo.
You might forget the gas and shells, parlay voo.
You might forget the gas and shells, parlay voo.
You might forget the groans and yells,
But you’ll never forget the mademoiselles.
Hinky, dinky, parlay voo.
True enough, the Vestal says, nodding her head. The world is wide open now. All those builders and maintainers of society – they’re dead and gone. So who rushes in? I guess us. The rules are gone. Is that happymaking or sad-making?
It ain’t either one nor the other, Moses says, rising to his feet and beginning to dress. And the rules ain’t gone – they’ve just took up a new home on the inside of your brain rather than the outside of it.
He walks back to the car and smokes a cigar while waiting for the others. It’s peaceful here, all right. So peaceful it makes you long for things you don’t know the names of.
*
She was beautiful, Moses says, addressing those members of the caravan still awake to hear his story. Some have slunk off and some have fallen asleep on their own arms by the fire. The sky is deep dark now and no one has spoken for a long while save the large one-eyed man himself. The fire is lowering. A few listeners toss twigs and brush into the flames, but more for the brief flashes of consuming light than to keep the fire alive. The face of the large man is becoming difficult to see – but by the momentary light of a handful of burning weeds, it is possible to make out his features, his grizzled beard, his downturned mouth, his liquid staring eye.