It was in Paris, midnight in June
She walked on streets alone
With her eyes full of sorrow
Wandering girl was sixteen
This man who never told his name
Came to her side
He looked forty something
Just call him the chubby Dupont
He walked on without saying a word
And she followed him behind
Who it was or where it was going
Nothing was known to each other
In a back alley
He led her into the apartment
With some warm soup served
Chubby Dupont treated her calm
Picking a rose from the window
He wore it across her chest
Trying to joke around and amuse
Until a light chuckle was let out
They talked and talked till dawn
She's heading back to town
Seeing her off on her brisk steps
Chubby Dupont kept himself from a word
Countless years had passed
She never ever met him again
Everytime when she's sad
Recurring to her was the chubby Dupont