The Night Before Bastille Day

Twas the night before Bastille Day and all through Par-ee
LCB students were primping for their big sortie.

Reservations were made for the team dinner;
Le Boeuf sur le Toit was chosen (not really a winner!)

No chef's whites, no aprons
No cuts, burns, or spills
Tonight we wore makeup, and dresses with frills.


We ate and we drank and we chatted and laughed
until our numbers had dwindled by half.
"There must be better places to be, let's move on," we called!
"Why don't we go to the pompiers bal?"


The firemen open their houses each year
to revelers coming, all in good cheer.
There's music and dancing and all sorts of fun,
but perhaps it would be better were we only 21.

So on we went after surveying the crowd
to a nearby bar where the music was loud.
But not music for dancing, no that would be wrong;
this was music for singing along!

A karaoke bar we found right down the street
and some of us got into it, keeping the beat.
Pierre sang a French song, Anne sang a ditty;
Claudia and I were pop stars, and Amit rocked Paradise City.


But after a few it was time to change venue
to a club with less singing, a more mellow menu.
There we stayed for one more drink
until I said "I've got to go, I think.
It's a quarter to three and it'll be a real pain
to wake up at six to catch my train!"

Thus ended my night before Bastille Day this year,
eventful enough that I won't shed a tear
to be missing the festivities -- parades, fireworks, and crowds;
instead I am thrilled to be Amsterdam-bound!

(My apologies. Poetry was never my strong suit.)