Recently my writing was compared to song lyrics. So in honor of this fine insult and its holy source, here’s a little diddy for you and you and you..

My Poulet
By Fifi Collective, dedicated to the Temptations and Sin

Gotham’s got clouds on a cloudy day.
When it’s cold outside we want to play on Morro Bay.
I guess poodles say
Mom we want some poulet.
Poodles. Poodles. Poodles
Talkin’bout poulet. Poulet.

I’ve got four kinds of honey but you don’t envy me.
I’ve got the sweetest poulet than poodles barking at the trees.
I guess poodles say
Mom can we get some roast poulet?
Poodles. Poodles. Poodles
Talkin’bout poulet. Poulet.

Woof woof woof
Woof woofhmph
GrrowoOOoowuwu.

Poodles don’t need no caviar, foie gras, or filet.
They’ve got all the victuals baby one girl can glean.
I guess poodles say
Mom doggit get us some roast poulet.
Poodles. Poodles. Poodles
Talkin’bout poulet. Poulet.

Gotham’s got clouds on a cloudy day with poodles.
But we’ve got summer days ahead with poodles (fade)