It was a teenage wedding,
And the old folks wished them well.
You could see that Pierre
Did truly love the 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 crammed
With TV dinners and ginger ale.
But when Pierre found work,
Whe 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, oh boy,
Did they let it blast.
Seven hundred little records,
All rock, 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,
'Twas a cherry red '53.
They drove it down New Orleans
To celebrate their anniversary.
It was there that Pierre was married
To the lovely madamoiselle.
C'est la vie', say the old folks,
It goes to show you never can tell.
It was a teenage wedding,
And the old folks wished them well.
You could see that Pierre
Did truly love the 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.