The state of France
Rhymes with "Romance"
And Migrants want
To take a Chance
To Build a Life
Free from All Strife,
if Careers Advance,
in Droll Old France.
Their Modern Stance
On Bigger Barns
And Euro Fun
Begs No Askance,
But the Puzzle Here
Is the Arab Tears
And whether THEY
Feel Aliena---
ted.
They Speak The Lingo,
Play the Same Bingo,
Have Abandoned MAN-DING-O
In Favour Of SACRE BLEU.
Their Minds Are Entrenched
In All Things French,
Music, Culture, Art -- those Things
That Cheer An Ailing Heart To SING!
But in the End
It is all for Nought,
For They Thought
"I am French!"
While the State says,
"You are NOT."
** Inspired by an article at NY Times.
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