I live in a land where French is King
And English is not stable
We’re supposed to know our oui from  non
Our table from our table
We can’t say hi, bonjour together
Or wear a pretty hijab
English schools are closing up their doors
High taxes are on our tab
I don’t find speaking French a problem
Even though I wasn’t taught
I picked  up words on streets, when young
Marde, colisse,   and tabarnak
My children are bilingual, my grandchildren are so too
I try to speak and others laugh
My French is like a stew
I’m glad I’m getting older
And getting shorter on my days
For watching hatred and prejudice
Is just never going to be my way