Of course, it's not the Seine
It's not the Bois de Vincennes
But it's very pretty all the same
In Göttingen, in Gà ¶ttingen!
No platforms and no refrains
Who lament and who drag themselves along
But love flourishes there all the same
à Göttingen, à Göttingen!
They know better than us, I think
The history of our kings of France
Herman, Peter, Helga and Hans
à Göttingen!
br/>And let no one be offended,
But the tales of our childhood,
He was a time begins
In Göttingen!
Of course we have the Seine
And then our Bois de Vincennes
But God, the roses are beautiful
In Göttingen, in Göttingen.
We have our bleak mornings
And the gray soul of Verlaine
They are melancholy itself
à Göttingen, à Göttingen!
When they can't tell us anything
They stay there smiling at us
But we understand them all the same
The children blonds from Göttingen!
And too bad for those who are surprised
And may the others forgive me
But the children are the same
in Paris or In Göttingen!
O let it never return
The time of blood and hatred
For there are people I love
à Göttingen , in Göttingen!
And when the alarm sounds
If it was necessary to take up arms again
My heart would shed a tear
For Göttingen, for Gö ttingen!
But it's very pretty all the same
In Göttingen, in Göttingen!
And when the alarm sounds
If it was necessary to resume the weapons
My heart would shed a tear
For Göttingen, for Göttingen

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