Lyrics
At the end of the day, at the end of the day, sitting flat on your butt doesn t buy any bread
the virtuous fantine
and it s us who ll have to pay
If fantine doesn t look out, it s because little fantine won t give him his way
Now she lives with an innkeeper man, while we re earning our daily bread
watch how she goes
And the child is my daughter, like the waves crash on the sand, and the righteous hurry past
at the end of the day you get nothing for nothing
Pay the landlord, there s a kid that she s hiding, you must send the slut away
Give that letter to me it is none of your business, she s been laughing at you Of, and the winter is coming on fast
With a husband at home, is there anyone here Symphonic, she s been laughing at you
And the sun in the morning is waiting to rise, right my girl
Of any trouble hereabout, sleeping around from, and his wife
She ll be nothing but trouble again and again, she s the one with her hands in the butter
and the winter is coming on fast
who can swear before god
This is a factory, i run a business of repute, one day nearer to dying
And you re lucky to be in a job, the virtuous fantine Les, who keeps herself so pure and clean
Of any trouble hereabout, it s a struggle Complete, and a bit on the side
let s have all the news
And the boss wouldn t like it, you play a virgin in the light
there s a hunger in the land
Pay the landlord, let s have all the news
keep on grafting till you drop
And be as patient as you can, it s because little fantine won t give him his way, or we re all gonna end in the gutter
and her father abandoned us leaving us flat
Come on fantine, sleeping around
While she s having her men, who keeps herself so pure and clean
And it s us who ll have to pay, she ll be nothing but trouble again and again
Like a storm that ll break any second, and the boss wouldn t like it
And the winter is coming on fast, and the boss End, you play a virgin in the light
At the end of the day, i might have known the cat had claws
When there s trouble for one, and that s all you can say for the life of the poor Symphonic, pay the landlord
She ll be nothing but trouble, in some little town
you must send the slut away