When I was young and full of beans
I walked the streets in Paris.
I learned to speak in dialects
At least I thought I did
Along a street with glowing lights
Of red so dim and demure
A man would call to passer by’s
“Who cares?” he cried out loud.
“Me.” I said and I was led
Inside to met Janyle
“Oh!” I said,”I didn’t know”
“Who cares” was French for hoes
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