Disoriented Express (didn’t we have a lovely time, the day we went to Blackpool?)
I’m sorry, Your Honour, that I failed so badly,
It’s my own fault for being such a fool,
And I should have known an awful lot better,
Than to go on their day-trip to Blackpool.
They were from the Home of The Bewildered,
They’d only been let out for the one day,
A day without luggage or medication,
A Mystery Tour for their holiday.
The ladies and gents had all boarded the bus,
When, behind me, they closed up the doors.
It was only then that I spotted the sign,
That this was a trip with “Twilight Tours”.
I thought I was being public-spirited,
When I volunteered to go with my Gran,
There on the coach with the old folks,
Only to find I was the youngest man.
They were all in their eighties and nineties,
Dressed up in their wind-cheaters and beige slacks,
And a wide range of woolies and macs,
Were packed and stuffed in the luggage-racks.
We set off for Blackpool, all in good cheer,
But much forward progress was hard to make,
Because every ten miles down the road,
We had to stop for the next toilet break.
Each stop lasted an hour or more,
When the charra we had to disembark.
They needed some help, so came out two by two -
At times, it was like emptying an Ark.
The bus was so noisy, you wouldn’t believe,
Not from the exhaust or from underneath,
But from the vibration of walking sticks,
And the ghostly rattling of false teeth.
There was one geriatric, called Patrick,
A cheeky and mischievous old boy.
He made passes at elderly lasses,
And tried to bring the old dears some joy.
And another crusty, who answered to Rusty,
Ex-military, a dashing old blade.
He made a great fuss all over the bus,
And made great play of his hearing-aid.
But the girls were the ones you had to watch,
And for me the trip got rather risky.
Once they woke up from their sleep,
And had their tablets, they were quite frisky.
They might not know what day of the week it was,
Or the meaning of my frightened laughter,
But in their condition, they were on a mission,
And they knew what they were after!
But once I’d barricaded the gangway,
The adventure turned out pleasant and nice,
They couldn’t remember what you’d told them,
And you had to say everything twice.
(I say – YOU HAD TO SAY EVERYTHING TWICE!!)
But I got caught up in the moment,
And my punishment I’ll have to take:
Tho’ the promenade’s a place for fun and games,
The wheel-chair races were a mistake.
In the end I should have known better,
I wouldn’t want you to think that they were abused.
After a whole day in their company,
I think it was me that was really confused!
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