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Movie stars and moguls
And grilled sardines,
Pistou potage –
And a good massage

And paparazzi and Mr Perd
And Pigozzi and la dorade,
Swim fast, swim slow,
The suntan glows

Far from gloomy grey
London and Paris in May.
Asparagus in vinaigrette
And fresh baguette.

How this old dog smiles
At Cannes’ follies –
Bare-breasted, and mad,
And ever so bad.

La Côte d’Azur.
Still a pleasure,
Still a whore –
But never a bloody bore.

Poor some haute down me,
Plaster me in rouille!
Let the lights dim
And the Festival begin.

We go on, us gypsies,
Treading the heads of pygmies!

– Unknown Sherpa