In the land of rocks and water
Things be done they didn’t oughter;
Watch out for your nubile daughter -
Butchy paddlers may have caught her.
In the land of sun and lotion
Some may take a crazy notion -
Leap like fish in foaming rivers;
Take no thought for limbs and livers;
Shoot the rapids, lose their flip-flops;
Feast their eyeballs on the nudists -
Not the hols for fearful prudists.
In the land of swim and splutter,
Adding to the general clutter,
Come a gang of lunchbox locos,
Hell-bent horrors bent on soak-ohs;
Keep an eye out when you’re sleeping -
Audi’s men their watch are keeping,
Dedicated water babies;
Probably quite free from rabies.
Kindly fellows in a crisis;
Never, never quiet as mices.
Obviously damaged vocals
May be saved by Glasgow locals -
Diaphragm and breath controls
May yet rock the French patrols
Of prowling anti-Brit policemen;
Horrid contretemps may cease then.
Thank you for the well-cooked goodies,
Wasp-entangled, fattening foodies;
Thank you for the background running
Struggling to contain the funning
Of the lunatic front-liners,
Trouser shredded midnight shiners;
Thank you for the looking after;
Thank you for the wicked laughter;
Thank you for the quiet patches,
Valued since they came in snatches;
Thank you all.
Despite the teasing
All of you are rather pleasing.
And, although we’d like to shove you
Down the well, we really love you.
Thank
you.
(August
1983)
In appreciation of a memorably happy PGL holiday in the
south of France.
