Claire Fontaine Who are you? I like the paper you make We were introduced By a lover of mine And now she's gone But I still have you Claire Fontaine Claire Fontaine You seem to bring The best out of me And the things that I write to sing Claire Fontaine Claire Fontaine Are you a lumberjack or something? Does your father own a forest Are the nicest trees for choppin'? Claire Fontaine And Claire Fontaine Your sheets are very smooth I like to rub my pen across them Do you feel the way I do Claire Fontaine? Claire Fontaine You seem to bring The best out of me In the things that I write to sing Claire Fontaine If newspapers used Your paper for the news Things would seem less terrifying Just because of you Claire Fontaine And were you in a garden When they said the war had started Do you think you'd write a letter That would start 'my dear departed...' Claire Fontaine Claire Fontaine You seem to bring The best out of me And the things that I write to sing Claire Fontaine Oooh-oh Claire Fontaine I'm going home for Christmas They may refuse me entry 'Cause you're native to this country Claire Fontaine But as a foreigner relinquish A pad of paper so distinguished I'd say 'never, never, never I'll take this pad of mine to heaven' Claire Fontaine Where maybe I would choose To write a fan letter or two I might write one to Andy Warhol And the other one for you And you could rest assured in knowing They'd be on your paper too Claire Fontaine, Who are you? Claire Fontaine You seem to bring The best out of me And the thing that I write to sing Claire Fontaine