Oh, I remember the memories
under the sweet sun of Tuscany
through the cobbled streets of Paris
during that springtime reverie
as we explored all the echoes
the bright lights of Monte Carlo
wetting our feet in tepid shallows
on sandy beaches of Riviera narrows
the breeze that blew your hair askew
those raven tresses that loveliness drew
and those kisses from lips of thine
tasted as the sweetest Bourdeux wine.
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