AN INDIAN ODYSSEY
With Brits and Aussies, we number nineteen
Our tour guide a local, with lots to be seen
It’s Wendy Wu’s tour, and India we’re bound
And hope that our legs are solid and sound
As we struggle with our cases
With the strain upon our faces
Zipping up and getting ready
Keeping things just right and steady
In Chennai’s fair city there’s sights and there’s sound
But rest and relaxing we haven’t yet found
It’s go and go more; there are lots to take in
But the litter we see is really a sin
As well as the sights there’s always the smell
And sometimes, I’m sure; it’s like the fumes out of hell
But let all that go, there’s beauty around
We all often marvel at things we have found
There are temples, and temples, and temples and more
And when they’re all finished there’s churches galore
But the sights of the city is what I’ve come for
So please let me see them, this I implore
All aboard the train, it’s Bangalore we’re bound
We walk through the locals, asleep upon the ground
Our cases are loaded by porters for us
With often a nudge and even a cuss
Wake up calls, we hear them say
Time to start another day
Shower, shave and into breakfast
Make it quick so your not last
When I feel the call of nature come on
And I search for toilet paper and some
I get there and a hole is waiting for me
Squat but then find my want abating, you see
Six-forty-seven steps carved out of rock
Makes it difficult for some of our flock
Just to see a priest, made out of stone
Then walk back down with an aching backbone
We drive up through the mountains
With tea trees and rivers and even a fountain
There are elephants and tigers, of which we see none
We don’t really care; we’re out for some fun
We’re up in the mountains, the air is so rare
And the weather, I fear, is only just fair
But drive on we must, there’s a long way to go
The speed down the mountain is really so slow
To a spice garden we go, to have a quick look
We learn more this way than reading a book
Of coffee and cocoa, cinnamon and all spices
Then they come up with all of their prices
The silky oak trees, with heads held up high
Reaching right up into the sky
Protecting the tea trees, far down below
From the sun’s hot rays and evening glows
On the boats we sail, on a peaceful lake
All night long, Oh what a break
But if on the boat, you see it rocking
Then my friends, don’t come knocking
The road ahead is not so fine
For rain and cloud is what we find
Though we battle on through thick and thin
While some of us wear a knowing grin
The fishermen on the Arabian Sea
Casting nets for us all to see
All hands aboard, the call goes out
But too many chiefs, no Indians about
The Brits have departed, just Aussies left
We do the things that we do best
We pack our bags and pack them tight
Then sit and wait for our homeward flight.