They live on a little side street,
House discreet; très petite.
They're mumbling things like "toute de suite."
"Va te faire foutre!": me.

REFRAIN
Bungalow Gauls, please don't come out tonight,
Hide from my sight, it's not "merde". . .shite.
Bungalow Gauls, please don't come out tonight.
In France, why do you call moon "lune"?

I can't comprehend when you talk,
Sounds like squawks made by fro. . .er, hawks.
Your accent is frequently mocked. . .
Pete's Clousseau--zo funny!

REFRAIN

I ask myself, why's it in France
The words "chance," "lance" and "dance"
Are grunted and don't rhyme with "Nance,"
It fills me with wonder.

I chanced on a Gaule; francophone I tried talking,
From her throat came a mocking, my argot she was knocking.
I told her to go. . .well, you know. . .vin was talking
I had just been out grand cruin'.

Bungalow Gauls, "Comment allez-vous?" Right?
"Comment vas tu?" not right.
Such a familiar slight.
Bungalow Gaules, won't you come out tonight
And French by the light of the moon?