Only For Americans - Irving Berlin



Horace:] Countess, you're my pal. Hey, we gotta celebrate

[Countess:] What?

[Horace:] Yeah, first to Montmartre, then the Moulin Rouge, the Folies

Bergere!

[Countess:] Not at all....

[Horace:] Not Montmartre?

[Countess:] No.

[Horace:] Not the Moulin Rouge?

[Countess:] No.

[Horace:] Not the Folies Bergere?!

[Countess:] No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. They are



Only for Americans

The midnight life of gay Paree

The Frenchman he would never see

That's only for Americans

The prices in the smart cafe

The Frenchman he would never pay

The price that's more is only for

Americans from the U.S.A.



A Montmartre lady drops her hanky

And slyly winks her eye

That's only for the Yankee

The Frenchman wouldn't buy



Only for Americans

The Frenchmen on the boulevards

Don't buy those dirty postal cards

They're only for Americans

The little holes for peeping through

To see what naughty people do

The French would bore, they're only for

Americans from the U.S.A.



[2]

Only for Americans

The shops with many real antiques

Antiques as old as seven weeks

Are only for Americans

The bed on which a king made love

Which there are several dozens of

The French pooh pooh, we sell them to

Americans from the U.S.A.



We buy your worn out mink and sables

And fix them up like new

Then simply change the labels

And sell them back to you



Only for Americans

A Frenchman wouldn't be impressed

To see a show with girls undressed

That's only for Americans

The French don't go to naked shows

They've seen what's underneath the clothes

And each encore is only for

Americans from the U.S.A.



[3]

Only for Americans

A Frenchman's food is very plain

Those fancy sauces with ptomaine

Are only for Americans

A Frenchman seldom eats the snails

With little ulcers on their tails

And all that cheese was made to please

Americans from the U.S.A.



While the American carouses

Where crimson shadows creep

The French avoid those houses

They go to bed to sleep



Only for Americans

The season starts, they come to town

They turn the city upside down

We use their Yankee Doodle dough

To clean up Paris when they go



But we can't do without them

We're simply mad about them

The Americans

The Americans

The Americans from the U.S.A



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