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micropatterns of nature 

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Once in the land of Western Francs,
a tall man with large auricles,
did impress the world’s highest ranks,
and his Northern neighbours, who so love pickles.

When he lifted his arms to scrape the sky,
he shuddered with great bliss,
and yelled his famous husky cry,
more like a francomaniac hiss.

He never said: I am the state –
long for proclaimed by others,
though one can say at any rate,
that he liked his European brothers.

When he crowed: Vive la France –
all Gauls thought that they were lucky,
and sleep-walked or were all in trance,
to have a president so plucky.

Summary: Hard luck, Chirac!