The liner gushes softly through the waves,
Designed with contours so it saves
Kiddies in paddlin’ pools,
Old men on bar stools.
The evening sun illuminates its path,
Whilst jolly sailors have a laugh.
Rolling up a cigarette,
Perhaps there’s something they’ll forget.
A loved one left ashore,
They’ll long to reunite - that’s for sure.
Off toward sunnier climes,
But at this moment it’s Netley time.
The man with binoculars sees the clock
As the waves gush in and out with each tick-tock
As he gazes forward toward the Solent gap
He’s reminded of his birth, this very lucky chap.
For out she widens East & West,
Probably either way is best.
Hair blows back to mimic the wash,
As your aboard this liner so P.O.S.H.
Hythe’s such a special place to see,
Pictures of the world and you & me.
There is always movement in the ocean,
Peace & Harmony - no commotion.
So if you want somewhere to go before your dead,
Tickets are now £20 per head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem