Madame Ivonne - Carlos Gardel, Francisco Canaro

Mademoiselle Ivonne era una pebeta

que en el barrio posta del viejo Montmartre

con su pinta brava de alegre griseta,

animo las fiestas de Les Quatre Arts.

Era la papusa del Barrio Latino,

que supo a los puntos del verso inspirar,

pero fue que un día llego un argentino

y a la francesita la hizo suspirar.

Madame Ivonne…

la cruz del sur fue como un sino

Madame Ivonne…

fue como el sino de tu suerte.

Alondra gris,

tu dolor me conmueve;

tu pena es de nieve,

Madame Ivonne…

Han pasao diez años que zarpo de Francia.

Mademoiselle Ivonne… hoy solo es madame,

la que al ver que todo quedo en la distancia,

con ojos muy tristes bebe su champagne.

Ya no es la papusa del Barrio Latino,

ya no es la mistonga florecita de lis…

ya nada le queda… ni aquel argentino

que entre tango y mate la alzo de Paris.

Mademoiselle Ivonne was a babe

that in the post district of old Montmartre

with his brave look of cheerful griseta,

she animated the parties of Les Quatre Arts.

She was the papusa of the Latin Quarter,

that she knew how to inspire the points of the verse,

but it was that one day an Argentine arrived

and she made the French girl sigh.

Madame Yvonne...

the southern cross was like a fate

Madame Yvonne...

It was like the fate of your luck.

gray lark,

your pain moves me;

your sorrow is snow,

Madame Yvonne...

Ten years have passed since I set sail from France.

Mademoiselle Ivonne… today she is only madame,

the one that when seeing that everything was in the distance,

with very sad eyes she drinks her champagne from her.

She is no longer the papusa of the Latin Quarter,

she is no longer the mistonga little flower of lis…

nothing is left for him... not even that Argentine

that between tango and mate I raise her from Paris.