This is a 1926 realist song written by Charles-Louis Pothier, composed by Léon Raiter and sung by the French singer Berthe Sylva in 1937.
It has been covered by dozens of artists from Lucienne delyle through Tino Rossi and to Sanseverino.
The dramatic story makes it a classic example of Chanson Realiste.
Telling the story of poor Parisian boy
“C’était un gamin, un gosse de Paris (He was a wee lad, a kiddo from Paris)
Pour famille il n’avait qu’sa mère (He only had his mother for family)
Une pauvre fille aux grands yeux rougis (A poor lass who’s eyes were redenned)
Par les chagrins et la misère (by grief and poverty)
The child buys white roses for his mum instead of buying toys every Sunday.
“Et le bambin tous les dimanches (And every Sunday, the kid)
Lui apportait de belles roses blanches (brought here some beautiful white roses)
Au lieu d’acheter des joujoux (instead of buying some toys)
He dreams of one day, buying the whole lot from the florist
“Va, quand je serai grand (When I will be a grown up)
J’achèterai au marchand (I will buy from the market trader)
Toutes ses roses blanches (All of his white roses)
Pour toi jolie maman” (For you pretty Mum)
In realist songs, tragedy always strikes. Here, Mum is taken ill to the hospital
“Au printemps dernier le destin brutal (Last spring, the tragic fate)
Vint frapper la blonde ouvrière (came to take the blonde worker)
Elle tomba malade et pour l’hôpital (she fell sick and to the hospital)
Le gamin vit partir sa mère (the kid saw his mum going)
The child steals some roses from the market to bring to the hospital:
“Un matin d’avril parmi les promeneurs (On an April morning, amongst the people strolling)
N’ayant plus un sou dans sa poche (not having a penny in his pocket)
Sur un marché, tout tremblant le pauvre mioche (trembling, the poor kid on the market)
Furtivement vola des fleurs” (stole some flowers)
The trader takes pity on him and let the child have the flowers
“La marchande émue, doucement lui dit (The trader, moved, gently told him)
Emporte-les, je te les donne (Take them, I give them to you)
Elle l’embrassa et l’enfant partit (She kissed him and the child left)
Tout rayonnant qu’on le pardonne” (Beaming as he was forgiven)
But when the child arrives at the hospital, a nurse tells him the mother passed away
“Mais en le voyant, tout bas une infirmière (But seeing him, gently, a nurse)
Lui dit “tu n’as plus de maman”” (Told him, “you no longer have mother”)
Resilient, the child tells his mother she can take the roses away to paradise
“Tiens ma jolie maman (Here, my pretty mummy)
Voici des roses blanches (Are some white roses)
Toi qui les aimais tant (As you liked them so much)
Et quand tu t’en iras (And when you will go)
Au grand jardin, là-bas (Over there, to the large garden)
Toutes ces roses blanches (All those white roses)
Tu les emporteras” (You will take away)
C’était un gamin, un gosse de
Paris
Pour famille il n’avait qu’sa mère
Une pauvre fille aux grands yeux rougis
Par les chagrins et la misère
Elle aimait les fleurs, les roses surtout
Et le bambin tous les dimanches
Lui apportait de belles roses blanches
Au lieu d’acheter des joujoux
La câlinant bien tendrement
Il disait en les lui donnant
C’est aujourd’hui dimanche
Tiens ma jolie maman
Voici des roses blanches
Toi qui les aimes tant
Va, quand je serai grand
J’achèterai au marchand
Toutes ses roses blanches
Pour toi jolie maman
Au printemps dernier le destin brutal
Vint frapper la blonde ouvrière
Elle tomba malade et pour l’hôpital
Le gamin vit partir sa mère
Un matin d’avril parmi les promeneurs
N’ayant plus un sou dans sa
poche
Sur un marché, tout tremblant le pauvre mioche
Furtivement vola des fleurs
La marchande l’ayant surpris
En baissant la tête
il lui dit
C’est aujourd’hui dimanche
Et j’allais voir maman
J’ai pris ces roses blanches
Elle les aime tant
Sur son petit lit blanc
Là-bas elle m’attend
J’ai pris ces roses blanches
Pour ma jolie maman
La marchande émue,
Doucement lui dit
Emporte-les, je te les donne
Elle l’embrassa et l’enfant partit
Tout rayonnant qu’on le pardonne
Puis à l’hôpital il vint en courant
Pour offrir les fleurs à sa mère
Mais en le voyant,
tout bas une infirmière
Lui dit “tu n’as plus de maman”
Et le gamin s’agenouillant
devant le petit lit blanc
C’est aujourd’hui dimanche
Tiens ma jolie maman
Voici des roses blanches
Toi qui les aimais tant
Et quand tu t’en iras
Au grand jardin, là-bas
Toutes ces roses blanches
Tu les emporteras
It was a wee lad,, a kiddo from Paris
He only had his mother for family
A poor girl with big, reddened eyes
by the sorrows and misery.
She loved flowers, especially roses
and the toddler every Sunday
brought her beautiful white roses
Instead of buying toys
Cuddling her tenderly.
He said as he was giving them to her.
Today is Sunday.
Here you go, my pretty Mummy.
Here are some white roses,
You who love them so much.
Well, when I am a grown-up,
I will buy from the market trader,
all of his white roses
For you, pretty Mummy.
Last spring, … brutal fate
Came to hit the blonde worker.
She got sick, and for
the hospital
The kid saw his mother leave.
An April morning among the people strolling
not having a penny left in his pocket
on a market, all trembling, the poor kid
Furtively stole some flowers.
The market trader, having caught him
He lowered his head
and told her
Today is Sunday
And I was going to see Mummy.
I took these white roses,
She loves them so much.
On her little white bed
There, she is waiting for me,
I took her those white roses
For my pretty Mummy.
The market trader moved;
Gently tells him
Take them, I give them to you.
She kissed him and the child gone
All radiant that we forgave him.
Then to the hospital
He came running to offer the flowers to his mother.
But when she saw him
gently, a nurse
told him, “You no longer have a mother”
And the kid, kneeling
in front of the little white bed,
Today is Sunday,
Here you are, my pretty Mummy.
Here are the white roses,
You who loved them so much.
And when you leave
for the big garden there,
all those white roses,
You will take them away.
.
Between the French lyrics 
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