A Book of the Riviera

by S. Baring-Gould

Jusqu’à la portière, quelle fourmilière!

Des fous on croit voire l’hôpital;
V’là c’que c’est que l’Carnaval.

“Quand on a bien ri, bien couru,
Bien chanté, bien mangé et bu,
Mars d’un frippier reprend l’enseigne,

Pluton son empeigne, Jupiter son peigne:

Tout rentre en place; et, bien ou mal,
V’là c’que c’est que l’Carnaval.”

Désaugiers was one day invited to preside at the annual dinner of the pork butchers. After the table was cleared he rose, and all expected the oration or song of the evening. Looking round with a twinkle in his eye, he began—

“Des Cochons, des Cochons.”

The pork butchers bridled up, grew red with wrath, thinking that this was intended as an insult, when Désaugiers proceeded with his song—

“Décochons les traits de la satire.”