when i was younger
learning ze french
felt such a monger
saying jer mapel wench
french teacher unimpressed
with ascent i bestowed
then became french dressed
with some onions i rode
straight down high street
crying with the onions
i didn't half weep
feet they got bunions
arriving home shortly after
with bunions on me feet
mum burst into laughter
dad said son your unique
french i detested
jer mapel this and that
french pen-pal zit infested
and he enjoyed his scat***
his letters made no sense
la mason, la d DA
i became somewhat incense
said hes from Artois*
rapidly ending friendship
never got another reply
certainly wasn't hardship
so sent one saying hi
french certainly not easy
although i was very puerile**
frog legs and snails queasy
wont have that MC Donald meal
Artois* a former province of northern France near the English Channel (between Picardy and Flanders)
puerile** of or characteristic of a child
Scat*** singing jazz; the singer substitutes nonsense syllables for the words of the song and tries to sound like a musical instrument
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem