The handsome Atalanta often draws a crowd, But dropping it from aircraft never was allowed.
Betty was a lovely lass who never ate raw meat, And then she met our Billy, who fed her pickled beet. He said to her “Oh Betty, please, please marry me today, I could show you my rear cabin and we could make some hay”. “Oh Billy Boy, Oh Billy Boy I really love you true, But you own an Atalanta, and hardly have a clew”. —– Billy took the
A land yacht thought Billy-boy, could be just the thing, The freedom of the open road, should make the old heart sing. But such a shift from keels to wheels, was easier said than done, For sleeping in the pick-up bed, just didn’t look like fun. Then his sister saw a blister, that was really going cheap, And Billy had a vision, that might let him get some sleep. For
A Swatchway Rambler, that’s the life for me, Listening to Beethoven and drinking pots and pots of tea. Waiting for the tide and following the breeze, There’s no stress on board, all is at ease. At the end of the day, with the boogie stove aglow, I sup on pot noodle (but, that, no one really needs to know).
The great man Pythagoras was also fond of food. That square meals into round tins could never go, Was what he did conclude. From this he surmised… That if his supper emerged from a four-sided tin, He could rest assured, all his RDAs would be found therein. Ergo, corn(er)ed beef and Spam must be the ultimate in square meals. Which only proves the limitations of logic, no matter how much
Rye Harbour is a lovely port, But make your stay there very short. —— Some sailors think the River Rother is hardly worth the bleeden bother, The tide is strong the mud is deep, best stay in Eastbourne and get some sleep! —— At Rye we tasted bread-based lasagna, Could this be what killed Melania?
A Shrimper is a thing of beauty, so lovely with its gaff, But when you see a purple one, it’s really rather naff. A Contessa may be fast and wet, a gaffer rather scary, An Atalanta is the special one, designed and built by Fairey.
When cruising in the ice, some think that coal is nice. But we are always dozy, under our blister cosy.
E lost is eart on the umber to a ealth and safety lass, She was from France, she dropped er aches, but she said e was too crass. So dear reader, I must ask you, which of them is lacking nous, After all, it isn’t Billy, who wears is ard at in the ouse.
Rice cakes are a culinary evil, But so much better than biscuit and weevil. —— Rice cake with Spam is like sourdough bread with Serrano ham, Only different.