Sung by Miss Lizzie Valrose.
Last summer I went away
To France to spend my holiday;
Whilst I was there in love I fell
With what you would call a nice French girl;
I won her at once, this charmer so meek.
But felt very bashful no French could I speak,
The language I could not get Into my head;
I thought she'd be vexed, but she only said:
Tray bong, tray bong, tray bong, tray bong.
That's what this French girl said all along;
Whatever I did I could never do wrong,
She only said, tray bong, tray bong.
She told me tray bong meant that's good,
And teach me more she really would;
In fact, she said, before you go
Me teach you more than you now know;
she took me to see the sights in France,
The gay mobille and can-can dance;
A kiss or a squeeze she never denied.
But always seemed pleased and gaily replied: Chorus.
At last I found I'd lost my ring,
Watch and chain, my purse and pin,
And looking round I lost my belle,
And found out, alas, she was a sell;
I raved to the police, said, I'd lost my tin;
They misunderstood me and soon ran me in,
So when I got home in old England, you bet,
I told ad my pals I shall never forget-
Tray bong, that's good, tray bong, tray bong,
It seems to run in my bead the day long;
If you go to France, mind you do not go wrong,
For the girls are not always tray bong, tray bong.