Letras
It was a teenage wedding
And the old folks wished them well
You could see that Pierre
Did truly love that mademoiselle
And now the young monsieur and madame
Have rung the chapel bell
"C'est la vie," say the old folks
It goes to show you never can tell
They furnished off an apartment
With a two-room Roebuck sale
The coolerator was jammed
With TV dinners and ginger ale
But when Pierre found work
The little money comin' worked out well
"C'est la vie," say the old folks
It goes to show you never can tell
They had a hi-fi phono
And boy, did they let it blast
Seven hundred little records
All rock and rhythm and jazz
But when the sun went down
The rapid tempo of the music fell
"C'est la vie," say the old folks
It goes to show you never can tell
They bought a souped-up jitney
It was a cherry red '53
They drove it down to New Orleans
To celebrate their anniversary
It was there that Pierre
Was married to the lovely mademoiselle
"C'est la vie," say the old folks
It goes to show you never can tell
"C'est la vie," say the old folks
It goes to show you never can tell
"C'est la vie," say the old folks
It goes to show you never can tell