Though I wouldn't translate it he sang it A1;
His battery thought it A1!
The morning was fresh and the morning was cool
When they stopped in an orchard two miles out of Toul,
And the grey muzzles spat through the grey muzzles' smoke,
And there was Jules François to make you a joke,
To crack his idea of a joke:—
"The road to our Paris 'tis hard as can be;
The road to that London he halts at the sea;
So, vois-tu, mon gars? 'tis as certain as sin