by David Lindsay Since the bloody Battle of Hastings When 'Arold got killed by French Bill We've seen an endless invasion of French And I've just about had my fill Don't we have enough words of our own In this wonderful language of ours? - To seek and find le mot juste Dunt take much linguistic power It seems using French has been with us forever Passed down as a fait accompli Have we ever really tried to change that? Or have we always said "C'est la vie"? But, to think that some long-dead bon vivant With a certain je ne sais quoi Used his chic tour de force to put words in our mouths To me, it's a shameful faux-pas So, I think we need a tete-aa-tete To form a clique, to mount a coup Working together, en masse, as a team We'll swap "Bonsoir" for "How Do" Then (haute couture) won't be setting the trend We'll watch racing, not the Grand Prix No more art nouveau, or cordon bleu And say "Enjoy your meal", not "Bon appetit" I never have the soup du jour Prefer prawn cocktail to poncy pate And I'll sit in a coffee house or caff But never go in a cafe Some say I should let it go and relax Say choice of words is all laissez-faire But can I stay calm on this bete noire of mine? No, mes amis ~ au-contraire! At British Wimbledon let's use "40-all" Instead of being at deuce And what's wrong with nil instead of love Or am I being obtuse? I know that we'll get nowhere I sense there's no going back That it's like being stuck behind burning sheep Trapped in a cul-de-sac But I suppose that it is nice to share Good ideas and a word or two Like Liberte and egalite And that feeling of Deja vu And with le weekend, le booking, le check-in, le spam And countless more, I say with a grin That when we look at our counter-invasion Even the French agree that we win!
The end