My Mother Was A Chinese Trapeze Artist

In Pre-war Paris

Smuggling Bombs For The Underground.

And She Met My Father

At A Fete In Aix-en-Provence.

He Was Disguised As A Russian Cadet

In The Employ Of The Axis.

And There In The Half-light

Of The Provincial Midnight

To A Lone Concertina

They Drank In Cantinas

And Toasted To Edith Piaf

And The Fall Of The Reich.



My Sister Was Born In A Hovel In Burgundy

And Left For The Cattle

But Later Was Found By A Communist

Who'd Deserted His Ranks

To Follow His Dream

To Start Up A Punk Rock Band In South Carolina.

I Get Letters Sometimes.

They Bought A Plantation

She Weeds The Tobacco

He Offends The Nation

And They Write, "Don't Be A Stranger, Y'hear."

"Sincerely, Your Sister."



So My Parents Had Me

To The Disgust Of The Prostitutes

On A Bed In A Brothel.

Surprisingly Raised With Tender Care

'Til The Money Got Tight

And They Bet Me Away

To A Blind Brigadier In A Game

Of High Stakes Canasta.

But He Made Me A Sailor

On His Brigadier Ship Fleet.

I Know Every Yardarm

From Main Mast To Jib Sheet.

But Sometimes I Long To Be Landlocked

And To Work In A Bakery.