Let school-masters puzzle their brain,
Blinded by revolt and disorder,
A schoolboy departs in a rage,
And a preachers deprived of his daughter

They met at the Café de Flore,
And talked over gateaux and coffee,
She said ‘Joseph, you're my troubadour’
He smiled and said ‘You are my Sophie’

The pair acted out fantasies,
Embracing the Louvre with ambition,
Romancing across des Champs-Élysées,
With purity and inhibition

Back in humdrum Buckinghamshire,
The locals did summon a meeting,
While beneath the old Notre Dame spire,
Sophie said ‘Can you feel my heart beating?’

Then back at the Café de Flore,
A Mademoiselle served them merlot,
She said ‘j’aime votre poésie,
Et votre femme est un angelot’

Let school-masters puzzle their brain,
With grammar, and nonsense, and learning,
The schoolboy perversely proclaimed,
‘My buoyant soul will not be returning!’


*(March 2010)