Then back to ancient France again,
When Anjou's banner was unfurled.
When life was epic still, and men
Lived all the love songs of the world.

The Seine divides Old Paris still,
And half is yours and half is mine;
There, whip in hand, at every inn,
Spurred chevaliers still quaff their wine.

The old chateau from ruins rise,
And queens tonight are born anew,
Brought radiant back from shadow land,
To smile tonight for me and you.

And gallants gay, with powdered hair,
Shall lead them in the stately dance,
And all those hearts shall beat again,
Those sad, glad hearts of Olden France!

Lift high the cup of Old Romance,
And let us drain it to the lees;
Forgotten be the lies of life,
For these are its realities!