The uneven sidewalks go up and down,
There is no flat, even place to walk.
The streets are quite narrow in this town.
The lilting language echoes from the talk.
It is a sweet sound, the French flair,
Subdued, not brash nor loud,
It circles and swirls through the autumn air
And floats like a light cumulus cloud.
A lady from New York with an Italian accent,
Said Old Quebec is quite international.
In Europe, one must from country to country be sent.
Here, is the feel of cross cultural.
Yes, you can hear English, Spanish, even guttural tones.
But it is French that lifts one over uneven cobblestones.