There’s a hold up on the motorway,

After junction 59.

Rain is heavy, sky is grey,

Traffic stopped in line.

Must mean we are on holiday.

 

Day two and still it rains,

But we have an agenda,

Uncle Ted to steam train,

Then visit Aunty Glenda.

She’s in the Royal Infirmary.

 

Day three on sunshine beach,

Lots of places to go.

No holiday is complete,

Without a secluded cove,

Scenery and strangers to meet.

 

Bridges over rivers and bays,

Lighthouses, harbours and piers,

Rolling fields and bales of hay,

High crumbling cliffs to fear.

Where shall we go next day?

 

Houses of National Trust,

Cathedrals with towers to climb,

Great statues of rust,

Museums and art sublime.

Then home at last we must.