My mother's father was of almost unbroken French descent. I don't know much about France, and my French is pretty limited ("learn while you drive" CDs), but I honour their brave poilus from the Great War, and I love their wine.

It is funny that the British attitude toward them is so old. (I wonder if a similarly ancient poem can be found from the opposite point of view?) But it is a pretty weak poem. Maybe it would be better in Auld Anguish.

O..O
=o=