Escape From Lockdown
Where shall I go?
I await inspiration.
Don’t fancy The Broads,
Try a brand new location.
The Weald is too flat,
The Highlands too high,
The Lowlands too low,
I’ll put them on standby.
The Gower is too near,
The Wirral too far,
The Pennines too high,
And too hard on my car.
I like the Welsh Marches,
But they don’t like me;
Of the Wolds and the Marshes
I’m no devotee.
But I do need a break,
An escape from this lockdown.
I’ve a yen for new vistas –
Corfe, Pwllheli or Plockton.
Coast, country or town,
I won’t be prescriptive;
Just find me a bolt-hole
And I’ll get descriptive.
Not foreign this time,
The risk is too great.
To be locked in on return
Is something I’d hate.
So let it be England,
‘The home of the free’,
Though where we get that from
Is a mystery to me.
I haven’t felt FREE
Since restricted in Spring.
I must get away,
Break my bonds, have a fling.
I could try the Dales,
The Downs or The Lakes,
The Peaks or the Fens,
I’ve got just what it takes.
For adventure, for risk,
I’m up for them all
So just hide my face mask
I’m no more in its thrall.
Yes, I’m off to Bognor,
That ‘Bugger’ of a town,
The best place to be
To end my lockdown.
“Bugger Bognor!” were the alleged last words of King George V in 1936, in response to being told that he would soon be well enough to visit the seaside resort Bognor Regis on the south coast of England.
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