Aboard a Train à Grande Vitesse,
A single gunman lurked.
The passengers – no need for stress –
All, their own keyboards worked.
The train sped briskly down the track,
The Euro-scenes whisked by.
Three Yanks, unseated in the back,
Gave it another try.
Eurail seating is all reserved;
Much to a Yank's chagrin.
We all tend to become perturbed,
But, in the end, give in.
Voilà, it was with these three Yanks'
They knew they had to move.
And, with the grace of a Tom Hanks,
Nothing had they to prove.
From car to car, through click-clack doors,
They searched for empty seats.
While resentment flooded their pores,
The wheels made rhythmic beats.
The passengers all seemed content,
And all within their world.
These Euros have a smuggy bent,
Their inner thoughts did swirl.
Well, nothing's always cut and dry –
Especially on the road –
Sometimes it's low; sometimes it's high –
It's mostly a big load!
What's that we see there up ahead?
Three seats unassed for us?
Let's grab 'em now; boy are we dead-
Tired, about to bust!
They sank into their moving thrones,
As scenery flipped by,
Not knowing they'd be deadly drones
In minutes, by and by.
Just as these three Yanks settled down,
A scuffling noise arose.
They looked around and then a sound
Broke everyone's repose.
At first, the novelty of it
Refused to make good sense.
But, when they heard the bullets hit,
They got down from the fence.
These guys, on leave from training camp,
Were psyched up just enough.
And, added to the damned train-vamp,
They functioned off the cuff.
First, two arose and grabbed the guy,
Before he got in tune.
He had no time to bitch and sigh:
Who knew 'twas a full moon?!
Why can't a terrorist like me
Have a successful day?
I come aboard, and what I see
Tells me all's good to play.
I just get started – these two nuts.
From out of who-knows-where,
Descend on me like rabid mutts!
Why should I not despair?
The third Yank sees his buddies' plight,
And says, I'm in there, too!
If ever it was time to fight –
But, here in France – who knew?
The gunman, now his pistol gone,
Brings forth sharp cutlery.
He never thought he'd be the pawn
To unknown strangers, three.
The trio brave had done their job;
It cost a bit of blood.
But, if this jackass all did lob,
That blood would be a flood.
The well-trussed gunman told the cops
He found his weapons fair;
The exercise was for his chops;
It turned out, though, he's on their list,
And has been for some time.
It's just that they, this caper, missed.
Why are they so sublime?
So, here again, as hist'ry shows,
Three Yanks with superb class,
Go over seas and help the French --
We always save their ass!
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