For all the soldiers, on their holidays, There is a place, just tucked in by the woods, A house with ivy growing on the walls-- A cabaret--"Aux Toulourous"--the goods! The girl who serves is young and sweet as love, She's light as any butterfly in Spring, Her eyes have got a sparkle like her wine. We call her Madelon--it's got a swing! The soldiers' girl! She leads us all a dance! She's only Madelon, but she's Romance! When Madelon comes out to serve us drinks, We always know she's coming by her song! And every man, he tells his little tale, And Madelon, she listens all day long. Our Madelon is never too severe-- A kiss or two is nothing much to her-- She laughs us up to love and life and God-- Madelon! Madelon! Madelon! We all have girls for keeps that wait at home Who'll marry us when fighting time is done; But they are far away--too far to tell What happens in these days of cut-and-run. We sigh away such days as best we can, And pray for time to bring us nearer home, But tales like ours won't wait till then to tell-- We have to run and boast to Madelon. We steal a kiss--she takes it all in play; We dream she is that other--far away. A corp'ral with a feather in his cap Went courting Madelon one summer's day, And, mad with love, he swore she was superb, And he would wed her any day she'd say. But Madelon was not for any such-- She danced away and laughed: "My stars above! Why, how could I consent to marry you, When I have my whole regiment to love? I could not choose just one and leave the rest. I am the soldiers' girl--I like that best!" When Madelon comes out to serve us drinks, We always know she's coming by her song! And every man, he tells his little tale, And Madelon, she listens all day long. Our Madelon is never too severe-- A kiss or two is nothing much to her-- She laughs us up to love and life and God-- Madelon! Madelon! Madelon! When the train came into Paris early the next morning the sailors were singing the chorus with the poilus. They parted company at the quai d'Orsay. The soldiers went to the front; the sailors turned to Paris. It was a Paris such as no one had ever seen before. The "bannière etoilée" was everywhere. We call it the Stars and Stripes. Little flags were stuck rakishly behind the ears of disreputable Parisian cab horses; bigger flags were in the windows of the shops and on top of buildings, but the biggest American flag of all hung on the Strassburg monument which shed its mourning when the war began.