On a weekend trip to Paris
I thought I’d look around,
so I bought a book of tickets
for the famous underground.

We’d just pulled out of St Germain
when, in the corner seat,
my eye fell on a tiny man,
with a box beneath his feet.

As I surveyed his wizened face
I heard a loud ‘tick-tick’
I felt my heart begin to race
with fear – I felt quite sick!

It seemed nobody else aboard
was worried by these ‘tocks’,
which were obviously coming
from a time bomb in his box!

Here was an urban terrorist!
I had to act real quick -
So I pulled the midget’s box away
and gave his shins a kick!

“What did you – CLICK, CLICK – do that for?”
he cried out through his pain.
“To stop you in your tracks before
you blew up half this train.

I heard the ‘tocks’ within your box
and see your evil aim”
“Monsieur, you’re – CLICK, CLICK – wrong” he cried,
“I’m not to – CLICK, CLICK – blame!

Honi soit, le clicking’s moi”
CLICK, CLICKED this tiny geezer,
“that – CLICK, CLICK – box is – CLICK, CLICK – full
of frog’s legs pour ma freezer”

He was no threat to life or limb!
I’d prematurely panicked.
the ‘clicking’ came from inside him –
caused by a dodgy larynx!

Then, with this unexpected twist,
I realised with a groan,
this was no urban terrorist
but the Paris Metro-Gnome!!