The Last Resort
Two couples met when on the way
to join the long queue for the bus.
They talked of summer holiday,
and conversation ran as thus:
“We'd like tae gang abroad this year.
that is, if it's no' ower dear.
Weel now, I really dinna ken.
the wife likes Rothesay, don't ye, hen?
I thocht o' Rome, or yon Lucerne,
There's things tae see an' lots tae learn.
Is that a fact? Weel, Jock, ma man,
get you twa tickets fur Milan.
The Riviera tae is nice...
(We've seen it on the picturs twice) -
Auld Avignon has charm an' grace,
Or Ireland, - that's a smashin' place.”
That's how it went, and thick and fast
suggestions came with each retort.
I couldn't help but hear the last,
As nearer still they chose resort.
“There's Ayr, an' then again there's Fife;
Ach, stop romancin' will ye, wife!
Whit's wrang wi' Porty? Wet or fair;
Bring a' the kids, we'll see ye there!”
