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In 1954 - when I was 13 and taking 8th grade "Beginning French" from the un-redoubtable, Miss Klinger, every Friday afternoon at the the end of the afternoon hour, say 2 o'clock, she would pop a 45 RPM disc into the phonograph, and for the next several minutes, over and over again, the whole class would sing in chorus, "C'est si bon." All of us horny young things about to bust out of our pants, I am sure, felt so elevated & sophisticated (and, probably, one step 'morally removed') to be 'doing it', even if oblivious to the content, in French! Even after all these intervening up and down years, it's still, 'si bon.' Farewell, Eartha! C'est si bon, De partir n'im porte ou, Bras desus bras dessous, En chantant des chansons, Ce'st si bon, De se dir' desmots doux, Des petite rien du tout, Mais qui en dissent long. C'est si bon, Lovers say that in France, When they thrill to romance, It means that itt's so good. C'est si bon, So I say it to you, Like the French people do, Because it's oh, so good. Every word, every sigh, Every kiss, dear, Leads to only one thought, And it's this, dear, Nothing else can replace, Just your slightest embrace, And if you only would be my own, For the rest of my days, I will whisper this phrase, My darling, c'est si bon! ** Stephen V http://stephenvincent.net/blog/