Bonne Journee.

Bonjour Madame,

cava? Bien!

What’s ours is yours,

we are now friends.

Welcome,

sit and take a seat.

Non, non, not there!

You’ll smell our feet!

Perhaps some wine

or maybe a bier?

Would you like le football on

so you can cheer?

Orr horr horr horr,

a rare French joke;

we usually shrug,

are staring folk.

You always smile,

and laugh and mock

as you take over la metro,

a barbant sheep flock.

You always get lost,

ask “Parlez vous Anglais?”

and smile at us,

as you get in the way.

You arrive in our country

expecting English

but our flag is for France;

we refuse your wish.

Would you like a baguette?

How about some fromage?

Or some awkward French talk:

“Tu est quelle age?”

How about closer to home,

some poisson est frites?

Or maybe a fry up

to go to those round hips?

How about a bike ride

or a tour of le Eiffel?

Please visit la Louvre,

Merci, Madamoiselle.

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