BEASTLY TALES

C’EST LA VIE

“This is life,” so said Orville Lapeu,
“Yes, this is life, what can we do?”
“The ups and downs on life’s roller coaster,”
“Are too much to recount, even for a boaster.”
“Yes, in our immensely beautiful city, Gay Paree”
“We say most philosophically, “C’est la vie!”

Orville Lapeu took a tour of Manhattan,
He noted a jumper from Empire State flatten,
On the side-walk with steaming man-hole covers,
The mist seeming to be tears from grieving mothers.
Orville Lapeu then did shrug each shoulder.
“C’est la vie,” said he, being bolder.

Lapeu next visited northern Kalamazoo.
In icy weather, where blizzard winds blew.
Walking down a street with snow to his knees,
He chanced upon a beggar who did freeze.
Tightening his mittens, adjusting his scarf,
He called out, “C’est la vie,” with a loud laugh.
“This is life, and death, of course,”
“You cannot, sensibly, flog a dead horse.”
“What goes around, comes around too,”
“It’s no use bitching, now, are we through?”

Such ready acceptance of tragedy as normal,
Perhaps suggests an attitude rather in formal.
Orville Lapeu thought others suffering alright,
Just so long as it didn’t affect him, dim his light.
Perhaps, if one was out in the ocean boating,
And saw Orville Lapeu (deceased) floating.
It would not be appropriate to row across sea,
But just to shrug shoulders, saying “C’est la vie!”