Lyrics:
the fifteen-year-olds French kissing
Fifteen-year-old watching the twenty-year-olds chain-smoking
Twenty-year-old watching the thirty-year-olds vanishing"
Is this
it now
And the world's just gonna be
Flawless, everythings fine
Like old french wine
Like a tupac rhyme
Soulless like you fake being me
Like plastic
If you can't get better then you better get butter and grease the old french bread
if you can't take life then grab yourself a knife and slice
I'm just a love dog, baby
Ridin' your gravy train
And this old love dog is about to go insane
I'm just an old French poodle
Sniffin' your perfume
I'm
To satisfy your appetite.
La la la la la la Potatoes,
Boiled, French fried, any old way that you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes, yeh,
I want your lovin'
a dandelion tree
Well I cooked them feathers on the iron spit
And I filled me a sachel full of old pig corn
And I beat me a Billy from an old french horn
I fell in love with a working girl, Lord she sure was sweet
I met her down in the Red Light Tavern working on Bourbon Street
Way down in the old
I fell in love with a working girl, Lord she sure was sweet
I met her down in the Red Light Tavern working on Bourbon Street
Way down in the old
Maybe it's there, still there today
Sometimes I hear my little tune
And in a dream of long ago
And in my brain ran the little refrain
The old French
a dandelion tree
Well I cooked them feathers on
A tire iron spit and I filled me a satchel
Full of old pig corn
And I beat me a Billy from an old French horn
a billy
From an old French horn
And I kicked that mule
To the top of the tree
And I blew me a hole
'Bout the size of a kick drum
And I cut me a switch
I'm gonna cook them feathers on a tiny spit
And I filled me a sachel full of old pig corn
And I beat me a billy from an old French horn
And I kicked
a billy
From an old French horn
And I kicked that mule
To the top of the tree
And I blew me a hole
'Bout the size of a kick drum
And I cut me a switch
filled me a sachel
full of old pig corn
and I beat me a billy
from an old French horn
and I kicked that mule
to the top of the tree
and I blew me a hole
Well, I'm a country singer and a country dreamer
With a country heart
I love flat top pickin', clogging and kickin'
To an old French harp
And I
runs the refrain
That old French refrain I used to know
'Ah, mon amour
A toi toujours
Dans tes grands yeux
Rien que nous deux'
I've got ink in my skin
From days that I can't recall
My feet were heavy, dragged them through the streets of old Montreal
My French was shaky
dome get hit.
This shit is Twiztid deeper than that Old French braid.
Stickier than jam and jelly phased, kick it
Everybody else real talkin bout
dome get hit.
This shit is Twiztid deeper than that Old French braid.
Stickier than jam and jelly phased, kick it
Everybody else real talkin bout
france.
Jeanne dibasson: suppossed witch
Madeleine bavent: 18 year old french nun who entered the convent at
Louviers in 1625, after having been
a billy from an old French horn
And I kicked that mule to the top of the tree
Kicked that mule to the top of the tree
Blew me a hole 'bout the size
a public place
Drunk in a public place. Dead in a public place
© Gary Stewart Burt 1995
NB - Old French nois probably also came from Latin
nausea
I can tell
By the guitar sound
That it was recorded prior to '89
Name a track
cnd I'll guess the band
Old French picture sleeves
Is one quest that we
ringing muffled in my ears
Like an old french song can do
It's a sweet going down of tears
For my heart has sunk in
Blue, a blue moon
Without you
Time has
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