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2011 Yr5 French Poem. 2011 Yr5 French Poem. Mon Boof-luh Mon boof-luh ah duh vyay corn zjoh-nee, Mon boof-luh ah lah kuh puh-lay. Zjuh zjoo duh lah floot, fay cla-kay mon foo-ay, Zjuh men mon boof-luh oh shom duh pad-dee. Seel eh fatty-gay, eel marsh lon-tuh-mon,
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2011 Yr5 French Poem 2011 Yr5 French Poem Mon Boof-luh Mon boof-luh ah duh vyay corn zjoh-nee, Mon boof-luh ah lah kuh puh-lay. Zjuh zjoo duh lah floot, fay cla-kay mon foo-ay, Zjuh men mon boof-luh oh shom duh pad-dee. Seel eh fatty-gay, eel marsh lon-tuh-mon, Seel ah fam, eel say kuh zjuh say keel ah fam. Con-teel suh-lev zjuh sharnt-an-air, Con-teel suh coosh, zjuh door an-puh. La nwee, zjuh door ah say co-tay ay eel muh tee-an show. Zjuh swee an tray vyay omm Ay ree-an nuh muh tor-mon-tuh, See-non kuh luh pair-sep-tuhr, poor pay-ay mayz am-poh, Muh pren-nuh mon vyuh boof-luh ay luh mett on varn-tuh. Mon Boof-luh Mon boof-luh ah duh vyay corn zjoh-nee, Mon boof-luh ah lah kuh puh-lay. Zjuh zjoo duh lah floot, fay cla-kay mon foo-ay, Zjuh men mon boof-luh oh shom duh pad-dee. Seel eh fatty-gay, eel marsh lon-tuh-mon, Seel ah fam, eel say kuh zjuh say keel ah fam. Con-teel suh-lev zjuh sharnt-an-air, Con-teel suh coosh, zjuh door an-puh. La nwee, zjuh door ah say co-tay ay eel muh tee-an show. Zjuh swee an tray vyay omm Ay ree-an nuh muh tor-mon-tuh, See-non kuh luh pair-sep-tuhr, poor pay-ay mayz am-poh, Muh pren-nuh mon vyuh boof-luh ay luh mett on varn-tuh. PRONUNCIATION PRONUNCIATION My Buffalo My buffalo has old yellowing horns, My buffalo has a hairless tail. I play my flute, crack my whip, I lead my buffalo to the paddy field. If he’s tired, he walks slowly, If he’s hungry, he knows that I know that he’s hungry. When he gets up, I sing a tune, When he lies down, I sleep a little. At night, I sleep beside him and he keeps me warm. I’m a very old man And nothing upsets me, Except that the taxman, to pay my taxes, is taking my buffalo and putting him up for sale. My Buffalo My buffalo has old yellowing horns, My buffalo has a hairless tail. I play my flute, crack my whip, I lead my buffalo to the paddy field. If he’s tired, he walks slowly, If he’s hungry, he knows that I know that he’s hungry. When he gets up, I sing a tune, When he lies down, I sleep a little. At night, I sleep beside him and he keeps me warm. I’m a very old man And nothing upsets me, Except that the taxman, to pay my taxes, is taking my buffalo and putting him up for sale. ENGLISH ENGLISH