As it was a French story:

Do you hear the sound of gnomes stacking their rakes & fishing rods?
Do you hear mud softly squelching? as they pull their feet from sods
From the gardens of the land, off they all go, as Freedom calls
Seeking a home away from sunlight in Dwarvish halls.

Do you hear the tramp of feet, down in the paths below the street?
In the subways where they surely know 'big folk' they'll never meet.
In those tunnels underground, where the 'Giant tin worm' roams
Hear the "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp" of the Metro-Gnomes. (apologies to David Bowie)

Do you hear the sound of gnomes, all now arising from the drain?
Ready at last to face the world of men and sunshine once again.
Know now that hanging from a bridge surely will take away our pain
And if the nooses slip we'll all be declared in Seine!