Lack of Direction
When I had just turned nineteen,
I then caught the travel bug.
The urge to travel the world,
was similar to any drug.
But I lived in a country town;
quite green and very naive,
and the world is a big place
that was hard for me to perceive.
First stop was merry old England,
and tap into warm English beer,
when visiting small country pubs -
I could do this as a career.
It was in the village Woolston,
imbibing on a local brew.
And after drinking two pints,
I near made a fatal blue.
At least I have recovered.
I no longer eat with a straw,
but it was a lesson I learned,
and one I will never ignore.
Two ladies entered the pub,
who’d really let themselves go.
Weight-watchers is needed by them,
but I’m not letting them know.
They sat at a table close by.
I'll declare the converse I heard,
was English spoken as such,
I could not understand a word.
Then a sheer misunderstanding,
from a question I posed to them;
‘are you two Ladies from Ireland?’
that started all of the mayhem.
One snarled at me ‘Wales dumbo!’
And from that was my big mistake.
‘Are you two whales from Ireland?’
From then I’m no longer awake.
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