A French poem written by an American Patriot

        Eleven thousand soldiers
        lie beneath the dirt and stone,
        all buried on a distant land
        so far away from home.
        For just a strip of dismal beach
        they paid a hero's price;
        to save a foreign nation
        they made the sacrifice.
        And now the shores of Normandy
        are lined with blocks of white:
        Americans who didn't turn
        from someone else's plight.
        Eleven thousand reasons
        for the French to take our side--
        but in the moment of our need
        they chose to run and hide.
        Chirac said every war means loss--
        perhaps for France that's true,
        for they've lost every battle
        since the days of Waterloo.
        Without a soldier worth a damn
        to be found within the region,
        the French became the only land
        to need a Foreign Legion.
        You French all say we're arrogant.
        Well hell, we've earned the right--
        we saved your sorry nation
        when you lacked the guts to fight.
        But now you've made a big mistake,
        and one that you'll regret;
        you took sides with our enemies,
        and that we won't forget.
       It wasn't just our citizens
       you spit on when you turned,
       but every one of yours who fell
       the day the towers burned.
       You spit upon our soldiers,
       on our pilots and Marines,
       and now you'll get a little sense
       of just what 'payback' means.
       So keep your fag fashions,
       your wine and your champagne,
       and find some other market
       th at will buy your airplanes.
      And try to get somebody else
      to wear your French cologne,
      for you're about to find out
      what it means to stand alone.
      You see, you need us far more
      than we ever needed you.
      America has better friends
      who know how to be true.
      I'd rather stand with warriors
      who have the will and might,
      than huddle in the dark with those
      whose only flag is white.
      I'll take the Brits, the Aussies,
      Israelis and the rest,
      for when it comes to valor
      we've seen that they're the best.
      We'll count on one another
      as we face a moment dire,
      while you sit on the sideline
      with a sign, "Friendship for Hire."
      We'll win this war without you
      and we'll total up the cost,
      subtract it from your foreign aid--
      and then you'll feel the loss.
      And when your nation starts to fall,
      well Frenchie, you can spare us.
     Just call the Germans for a hand--
      they know the way to Paris.
      Please forward to all Americans, so they
      will not forget.