Au Tombeau du Maréchal Pet-de-Nain
Travelers, pause-and lift your caps.
Bow your heads in the sun.
If your ears are good, you can hear perhaps
taps at Carcassonne.
He mounted upon his snow-white steed,
and led his people down the drain
with the Order of the Centipede
on a shield of cellophane.
His people lived on rosy roots,
their faith was sorely shaken:
he rode to the Spa and slicked his boots,
and had his picture taken.
His people asked him what to do-
there was little to be done:
he said they were through red white and blue
-He had stopped them at Verdun.
Travelers, pause-and lift your caps.
Bow your heads in the sun.
If your ears are good, you can hear perhaps
taps at Carcassonne.
Structure
20 lines · 5 stanzas