Spanish: as easy as 1, 2, 4, 3
If those three men calléd wise did journey and see
that it would be fitting to give also to me,
I would but two requests make: un accento español para mi
and to wield in my head a Spanish dictionary.
I have been brought low; the pride I held fled.
In all other studies it was commonly said
that I would excel; this went straight to my head.
Now frankly I’d rather just lie here instead.
Fate has decided to cast onto me
a tri-weekly dosage of humility.
What appeared to my Spanish class turned out to be
la clase del infierno - it’s all Greek to me.
“No lo sé” is my catchphrase, my weapon of choice.
When he asks that I speak, “No lo sé,” I will voice.
Please understand, I mean him no vice.
I do him a favor by not speaking twice.
La lengua español es perfecto - the Spanish alluring.
But my attempts are atrocious; there is no chance for curing
a poor, sickly student who’s all too far gone.
At my wake I must have (bien sabido) ENGLISH songs.
“¡Canciones!” - “Lo siento, Profesor, quizás después
I’ll try to speak Spanish, uno, dos, quatro, tres.”
“¡Silencio, idiota- hablarás sólo en inglés!”
“Graw-see-ahs, señor,” I say, turning red in the face.