Kiddy of France in your raggedy clothes
Toddling along in your wooden sabots—
Daddy’s old cap on his little Poilu—
Now it’s all faded but once it was new—
Kiddy of France with that laugh in your eyes,
Tell me the secret that under it lies—
_Comment allez-vous_ today?
Kiddy—_mon chérie, Je vous demande_
Why do you press so with that little hand?
Why are you jogging along at my side?
Measure for measure you stretch to my stride.
Kiddy—_mon chérie_, now out with it, come,
“_Avez-vous, avez-vous_—some chewing gum?
_Avez-vous_ candy?”—I thought so, go on,
“_Avez-vous chocolat_”—yes, yes—and “_bon-bon_?”
There now _mon chérie_, my little Poilu,
_Voilà_: Your gum! And now then—_que dites-vous?_
“_Merci Monsieur_”—ah you’re welcome, I’m sure
A hundred times welcome, _mon chérie_: _Bonjour!_
BALLON, FRANCE,
February, 1919.