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An Englishman In New Orleans

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Uploaded on Mar 31, 2011

I should like to introduce Sebastian Lyme-Regis, Esquire: a befuddled Englishman trying his best to assimilate into New Orleans' society. He always carries his brolly and gets confused by beignets. The lyrics:

I don't eat beignets I take scones, my dear
Cucumber sandwich, not 'poor boy'
My order's wrong but I'm not one to make a scene
I'm an Englishman in New Orleans

You'll see me walking down Decatur Street
I'll take my go-cup filled with Pimms
I dress with style, you'll never see me wearing jeans,
I'm an Englishman in New Orleans

The weather may be jolly, but I always have my brolly
I'm an Englishman in New Orleans
When things get skanky, I simply wave my hanky
I'm an Englishman in New Orleans

Is there anything less civilised
Than playing football with your hands?
You can shout WHO DAT, I don't know what it means,
I'm an Englishman in New Orleans

I'm not cool enough, I find your streets extremely tough
I'm an Englishman in New Orleans
I'd get my arse kicked even in the Garden District,
I'm an Englishman in New Orleans

I don't respond to 'Where y'at', just tell it to the bowler hat
I miss my cricket scores and fish and chips
I may have no emotions and weird old fashioned notions
But I'm proud of my stiff English upper lip

You can keep your Barqs and Abita
I like a spot of Early Grey tea
For my breakfast I'll take poached egg and baked beans
I'm an Englishman in New Orleans

When locals talk it sounds like balderdash
I'm not your 'baby' or your 'brah'
Please speak English, dear, and preferably the Queen's,
I'm an Englishman in New Orleans
I'm an Englishman in New Orleans
I'm an Englishman in New Orleans

Keep your sissy bounce, I'm more about the prissy flounce
I'm an Englishman in New Orleans
It's just a hobby, being objectionably snobby
I'm an Englishman in New Orleans

Mealtimes aren't pleasant, without my roasted pheasant
I'm an Englishman in New Orleans
I've looked round Rouses, but I just can't find the grouses
I'm an Englishman in New Orleans

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