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.