The problem of how to speak and write in French

Was deemed somewhat esoteric

At Norton Secondary Modern School,

Akin to learning how to solve quadratic equations

Or the tedious business of saying please

And thank you.

Physics? The periodic table? Really?

It was surprising how many subjects

Could be enthusiastically jettisoned

If you really put your mind to it.

But, learning French, Mon Dieu,

What was the point?

Why bother, if we’re never going to France?

 

This was the burden of our anguished cry

As we bounded up the stairway to room thirteen.

Unlucky for some, as might be thought.

Well, unlucky for our teacher, Mr Green.

And for me!

 

Learning French was inutile!

Whoever heard of feminine nouns? 

 

Or wanted to visit a boulangerie?

French was all double Dutch to me!

Yet Mr Green persuaded me take it at C.S.E.

 

Then, promptly left, replaced by Mr Cross,

A well-named man who frequently asked me,

“Whose side are you on, John?”

“Je ne comprends pas,” was my sly reply.

 

Thus, failure was etched onto my Life’s C.V.

Sans joie, sans succes, sans Espoir,

Pour toute l’eternite.