Feeling French

The sun came out, the wind didn't howl
You know how I am , hating weather tht's "fowl"
We went over the river, and back through the wood
Where the new log home of Barb and Tim stood
You can't call it rustic, it's much much to fine
And tonight it was France, The Cosmic Spatula Dine

The table was beautiful, warm with a glow
There were guys in berets, we're authentic, you know
We played with dog Murphy and kitty cat Daisy
We sure laughed a lot, these people are crazy

French wine that was white and wine that was red
And Rita had made some wonderful bread
A bland vichyssoise made up the first course
What did you expect? Consider the source

Julia/Barb served up Boeuf Bourguignon
In massive amounts, oh where has it gone?
We'll let it be known, Rita's truffle was there
and not in one couse did we find a hair

We ate and we talked until we all hurt
and would you believe coeur a la creme for dessert?
Along with French cognac to sniff and to savor
and also to blame if there's bad behavior

The boys sang some songs and played for a while
and sent us all home wearing a smile
We went into the night, high on the starch
and already looking forward to March.