A LANDLUBBER’S WAY TO FRANCE

Posted by Admin on Wednesday, 17th May 2006, 00:00

No more a vessel’s yeasty wake
of tapered foam I’ll see.
In comfort for my stomach’s sake,
below La Manche I’ll be.

Tho’ old Britannia rules each wave,
weak peptics govern me,
so I shall claustrophobia brave
beneath the cruel sea.

Then, caring naught for fogs and gales,
where sunken vessels sleep,
I’ll speed along the shining rails
laid forty metres deep.

From London but a three hour ride,
a short time in the tunnel,
without a sight I can’t abide
of swaying mast and funnel.

By-passing Neptune’s restless realm,
no qualms there to embarrass,
enjoying the eternal calm
I’ll make my way to Paris.

T. C. Hudson

© T. C. Hudson.
This work may not be reproduced without prior permission of the author.

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