Donald’s upping sticks and leaving his home town,
He’s set his mighty mind on moving South and down,
Sunny Florida is where he wants to go,
Home sweet home, Mar-a-Lago.
He’s heartily sick of crawling traffic and stalling rents,
Don’s grass looks greener on the other side of the fence,
Don no longer seeks the Big Apples seedy streets,
He’s at home, on the course, teeing off as he tweets.
A Spartan Holiday.
G and T visited the mythical mystical Island of Rhodes
Where old monuments abound and the vistas are stunning,
They stayed in historic abodes complete with crusty commodes,
Given the culture, the history
It’s more a tragedy than a mystery
That no-ones been civilized enough to get the water running.
Imagine settling down ones sensitive New Age derriere
On a vessel that’s been round since Homers homecoming?
Personally I find clean modern and convenient a breath of fresh air,
And I prefer to express, at leisure,
Unconstrained by time, or tide- or short measure;
I’d take any cheap plastic seat over this half-assed tin pot plumbing.