I’m an Homme

(with apologies to Bo Diddley)


OB/GYN told my momma before I was born
You got a boy chile comin’ gonna have verbal scores above the norm.
High school hoops—he’ll just sit on the bench.
Better git that young fellow—into Introductory French.

Au oeil! Ou oi!

I studied them goofy–dialogues
‘til I could speak—just like them Frogs.
If you need to find le bibliothèque—
Then I’m your man—I’ll get it correct.

I’m an homme–
I spell h—o—double m—e.
Homme—I’m an homme.

Worked in a French restaurant–La Gerbe de Blé.
Worked every night—not during the day.
My job as plongeur—was a living hell.
At least I got to stuff them escargots–
Into their shells.

Got promoted to waiter—after awhile.
Did my best—to do it with style.
Everybody came in—got a knife and fork.
Lotta people liked—them noisettes du porc.

Au oeil! Ou oi!

Went on vacation—to Martinique
Musta stayed there—about a week.
When the wimmen went swimmin—they wouldn’t wear no tops.
The sandals on they feet—wasn’t all that’d flop.

Now I’m an homme–
I spell h—o—double m—e.
Homme—I’m an homme.

I can French inhale—can French kiss too.
Git you one of them striped sailor shirts
I’ll make a French woman outta you.
Maybe a beret—to top it off.
But I ain’t wearin’ one—cause I ain’t no toff.

I’m an homme.


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