Tag Archives: French

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.

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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.

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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.

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Why The French Make Good High-Rollers

You may look real classy

In your souped-up chassis

And yet prove to be asses

When you read “chassis” as chasses.

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Lady and the Tramp

She was a Sagittarius

Who played a Stradivarius.

I was a Virgo

Who played the trombone.

She spent her days

Reading music and plays

While I played Tetris

Beside my pet stone.

She was a sommelier,

Who perused cassoulet

And to whom piquant tinctures

Were je ne sais quois.

But down by the lake

I jumped out of her cake

And I’m pretty certain

That she noticed moi.

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An American In Paris

When walking les rues de Paris

I see people looking at me.

They laugh, “hua hua hua!”

At je ne sais quoi

And, like any sane person, I flee.

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