“This is your captain speaking…”,
had the Scallywags leaking.
“Due to bad weather in London and a heavy traffic flow,
we’re stuck on the runway for 50 minutes with no place to go.”
Already delayed, not a great start,
Stuck in a big tin can, full of fart.

Exploring the city and the English land,
the Scallywags knew it like the back of their hand.
Having visited London many times before,
they rocked up and let themselves in the door.

St Christopher’s Hostel provided two beds,
a place to rest and lay our heads.
Karaoke with new mates made for a big night,
up with the sparrows, the Scallywags were not quite.

With an aching foot from a suspected break,
the pain of hobbling exclaimed “for #%*^ sake!’
A good nights rest and some cheerful banter,
my ankle was better and I was able to canter.

Train to Newcastle, the Scallywags’ last stop,
Going our separate ways, I hope Mark doesn’t sop.