The cougar singer

There are projects and projects. Yes, I am a sort of contractor. Or a contractor of sorts, whatever comes first.

So here we are. Mission accomplished. Disposable time to pass. Logically there was a party. French cuisine, wines, Steak aux Morilles, cheese, coffees. Digestif, sort of supercharged kerosene power shots.

Which somehow managed to overcome the reserve limits of the project manager, a well endowed cougar Lady in red silk blouse and abundant black hair.

She was a fabulous crystal soprano. For real. 

A slow lascive song from her remote country. Another immigrant from the same region, gifted mechanic, joined the tune with an enchanting lyric tenor voice.

Suddenly all stood still. Those two were not joking. No Siree. A capella, the duo stopped the flow of time.

Then silence. A few seconds of absolute heavy obsessive silence. And an explosive applause. Even the chefs had deserted the kitchen.

The delight resumed, other stupendous tunes followed.

Once outside for a smoke I inquired. What on earth was that ? Can someone translate that first tune, the one that still has zillions of ice cold ants running on my body?

Sure. Those two are well known in the company for their talents. And the tune roughly translates to:

Without sparkling wine,

Nor burning brandy,

My sweet girly lips

are an intoxicating candy

Obviously that many translations kill the original rhyme. Never mind.

Fairy Dear, I'm sure you heard that too. Wish I had such lips, such voice...