Little Simon whoopsie-daisy landing on his bum His walking partners snigger, seem to find the whole thing rum And when the gazelle...

’Tis long the green way in, and a tunnel tree-lined straight It happens not to turn into a happy bouncing gait The monotone of plodding,...

Moissac’s mud be damned, petty Castet, Miradoux ’Tis only reaching Condom where you’re turbid through and through The athletes dressed in...