Call this a Holiday? by Ian H Bruce (2008) Walking through long wet grass Swinging my old windlass I trudge from lock to lock, rarely on board Stepping in muddy pools Why am I such a fool? A love of canals should bring more reward Chorus : Raise up the paddle and push on the balance beam Cold in the pouring rain, Open that gate Then trudge round t’other side, Why is it just too wide? Don’t drop the windlass . . . Whoops, it’s too late! He steers the narrowboat Why’s that so difficult? Eating and drinking while floating along, Slowing to say hello Listening to Status Quo Swearing at fishermen, all the day long Call this a holiday? All I see’s work not play Cooking and cleaning’s no labour of love Then when the locks appear Open those lock gates, dear! Cries from the captain to give one more shove Hands slip on balance beam I let out such a scream Turn black and blue from each full blooded bruise While down in the lock below He sips a red Bordeaux Senses KO’d by a skin-full of booze Then when the boating’s done He thinks it’s time for fun Batteries charged from relaxing all day He grins like a Cheshire cat Until he’s turned down flat The captain deflates like a cooling soufflé Dedicated to all those waterway crew members who spend more time on the towpath than on the boat. This should be popular with 50% of the audience! Recorded on :
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