Peter Sarstedt (aka Peter Eardley Sarstedt[1] born 12 December 1942, in Delhi, Northern India[2][3]) is a singer-songwriter.
He is probably best known for his 1969, UK number one hit, "Where Do You Go To (My Lovely)" about a poor-born girl who becomes a member of the jet-set. The song was awarded the 1969 Ivor Novello Award, (together with David Bowie's "Space Oddity"). Other Sarstedt songs include "Beirut", "Take Off Your Clothes" and "Frozen Orange Juice" (UK #10 in 1969).
Quatro anos de trabalho duro!Neste mês de maio fizemos quatro anos no ar. Continuamos trabalhando na divulgação deste maravilhoso instrumento, obrigado por participar da nossa história!
#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------# #This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the # #song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. # #------------------------------------------------------------------------------## From: [email protected] (Christian Sebeke) Subject: Where do you go to (my lovely)
Someone asked for Peter Sarstedt's Ohrwurm last week. (Is there someone who knows the spelling of Zizi Jean-Mare? I have not met her yet) Anyhow, here we go:
Where do you go to (my lovely)
Peter Sarstedt
It is in 3/4 and the basic progression is:
| G | G | Em | Em | C | C | D | D | | G | G | Em | Em | C | C | D | D/C | D/B | D/A |
You talk like Marlene Dietrich And you dance like Zizi Jean-Mare (perhaps this name is not spelled right) Your clothes are all made by Balmain And there`s diamonds and pearls in your hair
You live in a fancy appartement Of the Boulevard of St. Michel Where you keep your Rolling Stones records And a friend of Sacha Distel
But where do you go to my lovely When you're alone in your bed Tell me the thoughts that surrond you I want to look inside your head
I've seen all your qualifications You got from the Sorbonne And the painting you stole from Picasso Your loveliness goes on and on, yes it does
When you go on your summer vacation You go to Juan-les-Pines With your carefully designed topless swimsuit You get an even suntan, on your back and on your legs
When the snow falls you're found in St. Moritz With the others of the jet-set And you sip your Napoleon Brandy But you never get your lips wet
But where do you go to my lovely When you're alone in your bed Tell me the thoughts that surrond you I want to look inside your head, yes I do
Your name is heard in high places You know the Aga Khan He sent you a racehorse for chistmas And you keep it just for fun, for a laugh haha
They say that when you get married It'll be to a millionaire But they don't realize where you came from And I wonder if they really care, they give a damn
Where do you go to my lovely When you're alone in your bed Tell me the thoughts that surrond you I want to look inside your head
I remember the back streets of Naples Two children begging in rags Both touched with a burning ambition To shake off their lowly brown tags, yes they try
So look into my face Marie-Claire And remember just who you are Then go and forget me forever `Cause I know you still bear the scar, deep inside, yes you do
I know where you go to my lovely When you're alone in your bed I know the thoughts that surrond you `Cause I can look inside your head