|
Behold, the English Tourist Cometh -
Heavy laden, homeward bound
Two hundred anxious hearts will quicken
As the great bird touches ground.
Commences then the hectic scramble
To wrestle bags from under seat.
Then stagger down the narrow aisleway
With loaded arms and shuffling feet.
Next pours the flow into the airport,
This never ending, constant queue -
To show the passport, find a
trolley,
Spend a penny in the loo!
And everybody knows of someone
Whose luggage never did appear.
Who landed home at Gatwick England
While his cases stayed in Agadir.
Clinking bottles bought at airport,
Hope the carrier bags won't break.
That's 7 star Metaxa Brandy -
Keep that one safe, for goodness sake!
Five foot donkey, bought for
Grandchild.
A good idea? Most likely not!
Place named china bought for
mother -
"Not another useless pot!"
Bright green liquid, loved in Naxos -
Hated when it's drunk back home.
The calendar, the sponge, the
teatowel,
The writing pad to keep by phone.
Then, clear the customs, find a taxi,
Home, and get the kettle on,
Start the washing, cook the dinner
All
thoughts of holidays soon gone!
And down the pub he'll be this
evening.
Will he drink lager? - Never fear!
It's back to good old
English bitter,
He's had his fill of foreign beer!
So now we leave him at his local
Vowing never more to roam
For it's very nice to go a-travelling -
But wonderful to be back home!
Janet
Johnson |
