“Mademoiselle from Romorantin
Took your breath and left ya pantin’.”
I had heard some of these before, and a lot of others, but I never heard so many verses all at one time. They bade fair to continue all night, for as soon as one singer lost his wits or his voice, another popped up to carry on. Someone started the series, relating the sad story of one young mademoiselle, which starts with
“Farmer, have you a daughter fine,
Fit for a soldier just out of the line?
“Yes, I have a daughter fine
But she’s too damned young for your design!
And this tragic tale ends with telling how the mademoiselle’s son—
“The little devil he grew and he grew,
He’ll grow up to be a soldier, too!”