As a Nation, the French
Like to eat Snails
But as a fast food
option
The traditional dish
fails
As a Nation, the French
Like to eat Snails
But as a fast food
option
The traditional dish
fails
A Frenchman, wearing sandals,
Was in a bit of a
gallic strop
After teasing about
his footwear
His name was Phillipe
Phillop
I had two Exams today, English Oral
Followed by the French
equivalent one
They were both hard,
the only difference
Being the additional
application of tongue
Why do the French eat snails?
It’s an odd habit, without
being rude
The only explanation I can
find
Is that the French don’t like
fast food
I can’t count to ten in French
It’s impossible for me
I can only count to
seven
Because I have a huit allergy
After Henri had been
To the
dentist his mouth
Was fresh
and clean
But undid
all the good work
By gargling
garlic
Flavoured
Listerine
In
the woodlands of burgundy
A
bright light of impressionism
Was
cut down by Prussian rifles
In
the name of French imperialism
His
corpse left decaying in a ditch
Found
by his father under burgundy skies
A
founder member of a movement
Unnamed
until long after his demise