Pig louse, peacock, woodpecker, goat, beef, horsefly, tuna, rooster, dormouse, monkey, donkey,
Or whatever your name, gross Vingeanne,
While with your headlight ball lotto
You doing down on your brittle failure in self
And high rotating slip in the plain
You go into the fury that your old soul is full
Under the eyes of their mothers crush two chicks.
Me softly lying on twenty pairs of breasts,
Heard amid the wildest hugs:
"Come on! ... Me! ... It's my turn! ... Ah! darling! ... you exhausted me! "
Lovely both in a burst of pride
The blonde in flower, the red fire, brown grieving
And to be honest, being the home of dance
I see what you was doing and what we think ....

CHORUS DANCERS .

Encor! take us encor!
Verse us joy!
In our bathing silk
Search our golden mouths!

CHORUS OF SMALL RATS .

Love, delight and ooo-organ
Flowers under my tutu-uuuu,
And as for my under-uuuu,
I put the Mo-oo-or-gue.

THE FIRST DANCER .

Who m'├┤t'ra my shirt?
It is not Mauric 'Quillot!
Ho!
It is you, my darling, my love; my heart; my treasure; my little Pierre
And if we'd wanted to go Quillot him up for beer
Hi! hi! hi! hi! ho! ho! ho! ho!