For My Quebec I Cry I got thinking about Quebec today; Yes I’m a former tête carée, A refugee forced to move away From my little town of Baie d’Urfe. And to some this may seem but a joke; Perhaps just some moron blowing smoke. But I was forced out for my language spoke; My only crime was to be a Modsey Bloke. Yes, happy I was on the shores of Lac St. Louis; My youth ever so simple and carefree. And things were just as they aught to be In the land of the Mae West and Pepsi. But then ‘Vive Quebec Libre’ someone cried, And suddenly we were forced to pick a side; And former friends were at last denied, Until it seemed I could no longer hide. Yes, Quebec could become a state, Yes, she could decide her own fate, Yes, politicians I’ll always hate; But for me the hour was running late, Yes, I was forced to immigrate. And tragically uprooted was I. To my beloved homeland I said goodbye, And still for my Quebec I cry; A poor refuge is this English guy. And now twenty years has come and gone, And still I feel as though nowhere I belong. But alas I must remain strong, For now it’s time to right this wrong. Yes, my lawyer says I should sue, He says we have a good case it’s true. But alas I think this closure will do; Now all I’m saying is, “Baise mon ‘coo’!” Dave MacLennan
Posted on: Sat, 13 Dec 2014 16:17:22 +0000
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