Those Dancing Days Are Gone

Come, let me sing into your ear Those dancing days are gone All that silk and satin gear Crouch upon a stone Wrapping that foul body up In as foul a rag I carry the sun in a golden cup The moon in a silver bag I carry the sun in a golden cup The moon in a silver bag Curse as you may I sing it through What matter if the knave That the most could pleasure you The children that he gave Somewhere sleeping like a top Under a marble flag I carry the sun in a golden cup The moon in a silver bag I carry the sun in a golden cup The moon in a silver bag Come, let me sing into your ear I thought it out this very day Noon upon the clock All that silk and satin gear A man may put pretense away Who leans upon a stick May sing and sing until he drop Whether to maid or hag I carry the sun in a golden cup The moon in a silver bag I carry the sun in a golden cup The moon in a silver bag Come, let me sing into your ear Those dancing days are gone All that silk and satin gear Crouch upon a stone Wrapping that foul body up In as foul a rag I carry the sun in a golden cup The moon in a silver bag --- Those Dancing Days Are Gone - Carla Bruni