He's well inclined to capture his valise

enough to spur on any picaro

he'd much to learn despite his four degrees

there's naught as dry as sacks of haricot

He hates he hates the work of sequestrees

so keen to part poor bumpkins from their dough

going up to visit town is quite a wheeze

it frightens Berry and the Morvandiaux

Faced with mud you'll turn up your culotte

we'll smack the dibbing kiddie's little bot

manure not slush besmirched his gabardine

You'll come to miss the peasant in his smock

you start to travel looking like a brock

at least the metro's one place where you've been