coverlyrics

    LUBA, THE BARONESS
    (Words and Music by 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

    © 1976, 1978 Chandos Music (ASCAP)


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