The château’s nice.
On sweet delicacies she is gorgin’;
down in the street peasants are forlorn,
filled with sad woe
(it’s a mad show).

They have got no pies.
They look with envy at regal greed
and the queen riding on a regal steed
near the château…
in her bateau,
filled with gateau.

People gettin’ mighty mad,
realizing they’ve been had.
When told that they have no bread,
what does the queen say?
She simply sniffs regally,
“You say that they have no bread?
Let them eat cake all day!”

Again they’re spurned.
She reiterates with a more-common prose,
lapsing briefly into street argots:
“Dig the gateau.
Pig on gateau!”
As their hunger burns.

Starts in the street, then they take the fight
to steps of the Bastille
and set it alight.
Later, reine[1] goes
with her roi[2]beau
from the château,
sans leurs chapeaux,[3]
to the plateau
where blue blood flows.

France was a desperate nation,
about to change its ways.
To Antoinette’s talk of tartes,
“Thinks she’s smart?! The blade is sharp.
It ain’t bread we’ll slice!”

Then the crowd gathers ’round the guillotine and
watches heads take a tumbrel [sic]…monarchy’s banned.
No more gateau
in the château.
Fin de royaume,[4]
nixed, Jeu de Paume.[5]

Marie just wasn’t nice
(“Dig the gateau”).

Well, needless to say, there is no mourning
for the royals; enlightenment’s born.
Then Terror goes
too far: têtes[6] roll,
tumbling from the knife.
Down the têtes go:
down the prêtres[7]go.
Lopped têtes don’t crow
the dead-reine mots:[8]
“Dig the gateau!”