The English marched on Agincourt
With hoards of longbowmen
To fight the army of the French.
They were terribly surprised when
They loosed a thousand arrows
And those chic Parisian dorks
Brought out the champagne bottles
And fired back with corks.
Tag Archives: French
Wait… Did The French Just Surrender To Tourists?
So the Louvre closed its doors today
Which is how Mona Lisa would say
“Je ne t’aime pas
“Alors au revoir.”
(And yes, those do rhyme by the way)
Filed under Poems
Je ne peux pas me marier parce qu’il y a un dinosaure dans l’église
Duolingo says I’m wrong
When I type “La buste” instead of “Le buste”
But it also told me it couldn’t get married because there was a dinosaur in the church
So I’m not really sure who to trust.
Filed under Poems
Europe
If yous adde a bunche if extras lietters
Tou wordse, butx theiy’re alle silente
Yous maiye beye a french personne.
Meanwhileingermanyaddingspacesisviolent
Filed under Poems
I Actually Wrote A French Poem Too, But If You’re Reading This You Probably Don’t Like That Kinda Thing
If I were born in France
I’d have had a harder childhood.
I’m a pretty nerdy dude
Which means it wouldn’t be too good
To be in school and hunted
Like hounds hunt a fox
Except I’m French, to I’d surrender
To all the athletic Jacques.
Filed under Poems
Duo, Pourquoi Es-Tu En Colère?
There once was a multilingual green owl
Whose temper had grown fully foul.
He said “Practice your French!”
As he pulled out a wrench
Then watched me spell “vingt” with a scowl.
Filed under Poems
Jacques Strap? (Comment A Better Title… I Dare You)
They called me “french-fry fingers”
‘Cause I’m just that bad at bowling.
See, oil gets all over the ball
After it starts a rolling.
Then it hits the bowling pins
And knocks down one or two.
Emotionally salty, physically oily,
And that’s why. Comprenez-vous?
Filed under Poems
A Oui Problem…
When I discovered my gender-neutral parent
Was not my biological dad
I realized it was quite the faux pa.
Yes, this poem is bad.
Filed under Poems
My Foray Into French Poetry (It’s a 12y)
When I went to France
I got a pet 4.
I 5 to my knees
And I gave it a pat.
I wanted to pet it
But was told to 6.
If you don’t know French numbers
You’ve had e9 of 10.
Filed under Poems
I’m Going To Say This Before Every Meal From Now On
Jesus was born in a manger
And in French “manger” means “to eat.”
I don’t know how that is relevant
But I still think it is neat.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 