Besedila: Carla Bruni. No Promises. 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