A silly poem about speaking French:
Watch my eyes flicker from bien compris,
to rien compris,
because you just used a word,
of which I've never heard.
And I'll watch yours glaze,
into j'arrive pas haze,
as I confidently conjugate
verbs into a grammatically abused state.
I know 'un étrangère! Génial!'
will soon be 'cet mec la, complètement banal',
when you hear my thick accent,
make the description bilingue seem distant.
So I am forced to stay,
reciting verse in franglais,
making sure you're at least aware,
I know a little vocabulaire.