The atmosphere at JFK was close to breaking point,
inbound delays wrecked the schedules, causing a long wait.
Some jewish boys were flying home to fight the latest war,
the red brigade were busy from Amsterdam to Singapore
and all that packed departure hall was soaked in paranoia,
each looked on every neighbour as a possible destroyer.
Then a Frenchman dropped his trousers, some thought it not quite nice.
I have to say it seemed a perfect way in which to break the ice.

His suit was far too warm, it was a practical solution,
he was pursuing happiness under the U.S. constitution.
To dissipate some body heat would relive his personal stress
And airports do not operate a formal code of dress.
Could the sight of those two hairy legs trigger an incident?
Security were summoned; the puritans would not relent.
The man had dropped his trousers; they complained it was obscene
but there was no need to make a fuss, his underpants were clean.

He was bundled in a blanket, dragged off to some dark cell,
His crime it seemed had earned him a one way trip to hell.
Could the principles of the pious not just once be forgotten,
could they not pray, or look away while he changed into cotton?
Those who love the Lord forget He made us to be nude,
no one should find the sight of naked flesh discomforting or rude.
In this troubled world we've made many things have come to pass
But we sleep easier in our beds if we can laugh at a Frenchman's arse.