Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Adventure 1992

Adventure 1992

By Magic Bus from London town
To Greece we were transported,
With nothing but our canvas home
Thus speedily exported,

And so to Athens, there to ‘find
Ourselves’ and ancient glories,
To bathe in culture; steep our bones
In characters and stories,

But cold it was on Zeus’s hill,
And round his temple blowing,
Had he’d ‘a’ been a Scotsman he’d
‘a’ found his knees a glowing,

“It’s further south for us my gal,
Our bits are frozen rigid,
If we stay here for much longer,
It’s bound to make you frigid,

“My God!” I cried, “We must make haste
Before you too feel chilly,
May Zephyrus watch over us
And warm your freezing willy,”

Post haste and to the sea we went
Together with our spiti,*
And bought a one-way ticket out
To that fair isle of Kriti,

Now very soon we realized,
That man needs more than passion
If he wants to keep his body
And soul in the right fashion,

It’s true our little paradise
Could not have been much better,
We had fresh fish and oranges,
Tomatoes, oil, and feta,

The campsite had facilities:
A bird could not be free-er,
And yet our lives were incomplete,
Because we craved for be-er,

Now to us Yorkshire folk, real ale
Has fans, just like a showman,
It’s second only to the balls
Of Boycot, Lloyd or Trueman,

To have to go without a drop
Can prove to be quite testy,
We tried retsina, raki too,
But that made me so chesty,

We dreamed of pints with creamy heads,
Of mild and dark, and bitter,
The fruitiness of Samuels,
How Dent would make us fitter,

And so we walked towards the sounds
Of Sissi, and located,
The tiny bar of Harbour Lights,
Where Bill and Marie waited,

And there we put aside our quest
For stories, songs and dancing,
We listened to the tales of men
Of Cretan folk, romancing,

Michaelis Postman sang to us
A song with Eastern flavour,
And Costas danced, and plates were smashed,
It was a night to savour,

Our adventure had just started,
Now we’re twenty years down line,
We settled in the Cretan hills,
Where there’s plenty of sunshine,

So, if you ever pass our way
Look for us in Vrahassi,
In the area of oak trees,
It’s not exactly classy,

But we love it up the mountain,
Where the Griffin vultures nest,
Our adventure 1992
Proved undoubtedly the best!

*Spiti =house, in this case a tent.

©Jane Sharp 2012

No comments: