The Tourist Poem by George Hunter

Bud, calling from Mozambique.
I've been here nearly a week.
—I'm getting so skinny
—Of food I haven't any
'Cause I don't know a word that they speak.

I know the King's English, and so is the Queen
And I have a pocketful of the green
—But I'm wasting away
—Mlore and more every day
Guess I'll have to call L.L.Bean.

A care package finally arove
A parka, gloves, a campstove,
—Mukluks and a coonskin hat
—And other worthless stuff like that.
A real Eskimo treasure trove.

So I'll say goodbye to this place
And hop a plane for Alsace
—Where I know they have dishes
—Much more to my wishes
And I'll even consent to say grace.