I get made up early in the morning,
Made-up voice, up I'm warming
For a little linguistical scene.
Through my clenched throat I keen
(Throat I keen).

Seems quite quaky, rather fakey,
Need another chance--
I'm only Streeping.

The accent's origin's kinda hazy,
Sounds like Gallic Patrick Swayze.
Runnin' off my mouth at too much speed,
Tangled tongue need be freed
(Need be freed).

Jeez, I spoiled that take,
It sounded fake,
They're laughing all,
I've blown the Streeping.

Voice is too high as by epiglottis the wind blows.
Shaken, I sigh.

Now the crew's laughter is really pealing.
I wait for that Streepy feeling.

Jeez, I spoiled that take,
My try did make
Them give catcalls.
I've blown the Streeping.

"Voice is too high," says my dialog coach, "let wind flow
Lazy next time!

"Pre-take, do a little bit of yawning--
Helps make sounds that you're forming.
When you're in the middle of the scene.
Fake ze French, but don't scream!
(But don't scream!")

Still quite quaky, frankly fakey. . .
De Niro does France.
I've blown the Streeping.