Luba The Baroness Lyrics
| Song | Luba The Baroness |
| Artist | Joan Baez |
| Album | Blowin' Away |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Baez | |
| (Joan Baez) | |
| Luba, it was only the finest wine | |
| Means or no means | |
| Only the finest place to dine | |
| Paris in the sixties | |
| You had three sons | |
| Handsome husband by your side | |
| I flirted with everyone | |
| Your husband, aging but vain | |
| With the ladies was quite renowned | |
| Author of books made famous | |
| On his years in the French Underground | |
| But you, Luba, the Baroness | |
| It was really your blue blood | |
| No one could touch you with kid gloves | |
| And no one ever should | |
| And the hands of little Julian | |
| Will guide you well | |
| Et le pere du petit Sebastian | |
| Vous attend dans le ceil | |
| The youngest son Jerome | |
| Brighter than he could be | |
| Preferred the darkened corners | |
| And was even a little too young for me | |
| Tall and shy and crafty | |
| He was oh so scholarly then | |
| Got married later on | |
| Had a child by the name of Julian | |
| The eldest Jean Francoise | |
| What a mixture of sweetness and snobbery | |
| Milkfed by his mother | |
| On Russian aristocracy | |
| With wits like sabre through silk | |
| He was the wisest one | |
| Married and remarried | |
| Had a child by the name of Sebastian | |
| And the hands of little Julian | |
| Will guide you well | |
| Et le pere du petit Sebastian | |
| Vous attend dans le ceil | |
| Ah my sweet Christophe | |
| You were only seventeen | |
| First family dinners with the gypsies | |
| Finger chimes and tambourines | |
| With candlelit eyes of experience | |
| Oh how you laughed at me | |
| As I became rapidly foolish | |
| Under your gaze and on red burgundy | |
| In sixty-nine your father died | |
| I saw you in the years between | |
| Handsome, impetuous son of the rich | |
| Taking care of your mother, the queen | |
| And you are married now as well | |
| It was inevitable | |
| Three day wedding in the south of France | |
| To an angel named Annabelle | |
| Recently I was in France | |
| I called you on the phone | |
| Caught racing back through memories | |
| Luba was at home | |
| Her voice sounded quite the same | |
| As we touched on the amenities | |
| Suddenly it fell and shattered | |
| Like a thousand broken tiffanies | |
| In November Jean Francoise died | |
| We were all there by his side | |
| Sorry, darling, that I cried | |
| It's hard to keep these things inside | |
| Where are you staying and how's your son? | |
| No, we hardly told anyone | |
| How long are you here, are you with someone? | |
| Hold it, I'll put Christophe on the phone | |
| Ah my sweet Christophe | |
| Same damn voice | |
| Hell of a way to become the eldest son | |
| It's true you had no choice | |
| And you and Annabelle | |
| You must take care of her | |
| Yes, I'll be over later on | |
| And I'll bring my guitar | |
| While going through things afterward | |
| A letter she wrote and never sent | |
| A single phrase stood out to you | |
| These are the words and how it went... | |
| And the hands of little Julian | |
| Will guide you well | |
| Et le pere du petit Sebastian | |
| Nous attend dans le ceil |
| zuo ci : Baez | |
| Joan Baez | |
| Luba, it was only the finest wine | |
| Means or no means | |
| Only the finest place to dine | |
| Paris in the sixties | |
| You had three sons | |
| Handsome husband by your side | |
| I flirted with everyone | |
| Your husband, aging but vain | |
| With the ladies was quite renowned | |
| Author of books made famous | |
| On his years in the French Underground | |
| But you, Luba, the Baroness | |
| It was really your blue blood | |
| No one could touch you with kid gloves | |
| And no one ever should | |
| And the hands of little Julian | |
| Will guide you well | |
| Et le pere du petit Sebastian | |
| Vous attend dans le ceil | |
| The youngest son Jerome | |
| Brighter than he could be | |
| Preferred the darkened corners | |
| And was even a little too young for me | |
| Tall and shy and crafty | |
| He was oh so scholarly then | |
| Got married later on | |
| Had a child by the name of Julian | |
| The eldest Jean Francoise | |
| What a mixture of sweetness and snobbery | |
| Milkfed by his mother | |
| On Russian aristocracy | |
| With wits like sabre through silk | |
| He was the wisest one | |
| Married and remarried | |
| Had a child by the name of Sebastian | |
| And the hands of little Julian | |
| Will guide you well | |
| Et le pere du petit Sebastian | |
| Vous attend dans le ceil | |
| Ah my sweet Christophe | |
| You were only seventeen | |
| First family dinners with the gypsies | |
| Finger chimes and tambourines | |
| With candlelit eyes of experience | |
| Oh how you laughed at me | |
| As I became rapidly foolish | |
| Under your gaze and on red burgundy | |
| In sixtynine your father died | |
| I saw you in the years between | |
| Handsome, impetuous son of the rich | |
| Taking care of your mother, the queen | |
| And you are married now as well | |
| It was inevitable | |
| Three day wedding in the south of France | |
| To an angel named Annabelle | |
| Recently I was in France | |
| I called you on the phone | |
| Caught racing back through memories | |
| Luba was at home | |
| Her voice sounded quite the same | |
| As we touched on the amenities | |
| Suddenly it fell and shattered | |
| Like a thousand broken tiffanies | |
| In November Jean Francoise died | |
| We were all there by his side | |
| Sorry, darling, that I cried | |
| It' s hard to keep these things inside | |
| Where are you staying and how' s your son? | |
| No, we hardly told anyone | |
| How long are you here, are you with someone? | |
| Hold it, I' ll put Christophe on the phone | |
| Ah my sweet Christophe | |
| Same damn voice | |
| Hell of a way to become the eldest son | |
| It' s true you had no choice | |
| And you and Annabelle | |
| You must take care of her | |
| Yes, I' ll be over later on | |
| And I' ll bring my guitar | |
| While going through things afterward | |
| A letter she wrote and never sent | |
| A single phrase stood out to you | |
| These are the words and how it went... | |
| And the hands of little Julian | |
| Will guide you well | |
| Et le pere du petit Sebastian | |
| Nous attend dans le ceil |
| zuò cí : Baez | |
| Joan Baez | |
| Luba, it was only the finest wine | |
| Means or no means | |
| Only the finest place to dine | |
| Paris in the sixties | |
| You had three sons | |
| Handsome husband by your side | |
| I flirted with everyone | |
| Your husband, aging but vain | |
| With the ladies was quite renowned | |
| Author of books made famous | |
| On his years in the French Underground | |
| But you, Luba, the Baroness | |
| It was really your blue blood | |
| No one could touch you with kid gloves | |
| And no one ever should | |
| And the hands of little Julian | |
| Will guide you well | |
| Et le pere du petit Sebastian | |
| Vous attend dans le ceil | |
| The youngest son Jerome | |
| Brighter than he could be | |
| Preferred the darkened corners | |
| And was even a little too young for me | |
| Tall and shy and crafty | |
| He was oh so scholarly then | |
| Got married later on | |
| Had a child by the name of Julian | |
| The eldest Jean Francoise | |
| What a mixture of sweetness and snobbery | |
| Milkfed by his mother | |
| On Russian aristocracy | |
| With wits like sabre through silk | |
| He was the wisest one | |
| Married and remarried | |
| Had a child by the name of Sebastian | |
| And the hands of little Julian | |
| Will guide you well | |
| Et le pere du petit Sebastian | |
| Vous attend dans le ceil | |
| Ah my sweet Christophe | |
| You were only seventeen | |
| First family dinners with the gypsies | |
| Finger chimes and tambourines | |
| With candlelit eyes of experience | |
| Oh how you laughed at me | |
| As I became rapidly foolish | |
| Under your gaze and on red burgundy | |
| In sixtynine your father died | |
| I saw you in the years between | |
| Handsome, impetuous son of the rich | |
| Taking care of your mother, the queen | |
| And you are married now as well | |
| It was inevitable | |
| Three day wedding in the south of France | |
| To an angel named Annabelle | |
| Recently I was in France | |
| I called you on the phone | |
| Caught racing back through memories | |
| Luba was at home | |
| Her voice sounded quite the same | |
| As we touched on the amenities | |
| Suddenly it fell and shattered | |
| Like a thousand broken tiffanies | |
| In November Jean Francoise died | |
| We were all there by his side | |
| Sorry, darling, that I cried | |
| It' s hard to keep these things inside | |
| Where are you staying and how' s your son? | |
| No, we hardly told anyone | |
| How long are you here, are you with someone? | |
| Hold it, I' ll put Christophe on the phone | |
| Ah my sweet Christophe | |
| Same damn voice | |
| Hell of a way to become the eldest son | |
| It' s true you had no choice | |
| And you and Annabelle | |
| You must take care of her | |
| Yes, I' ll be over later on | |
| And I' ll bring my guitar | |
| While going through things afterward | |
| A letter she wrote and never sent | |
| A single phrase stood out to you | |
| These are the words and how it went... | |
| And the hands of little Julian | |
| Will guide you well | |
| Et le pere du petit Sebastian | |
| Nous attend dans le ceil |
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