La Costa Del
Plenty is calling & yelling out to you,
Come tourists,
to where the sun is hot & the sea is blue,
Wandering
around sticky towns, swathed in slick sweat,
Red blistered
skin, tacky hats, hot, puffing & saline wet,
Spanglish spoken, fandango, fiesta,
sangria & mucho Ole´,
Long socks
with sandals mounted upon donkeys that bray,
Beer after
beer, paella, & believe or not, still another beer,
Full English
breakfast with more sangria & following, a beer,
Grilled prawns
with coffee & then more beer with hot toast,
They´ve come
in hoards to the Costa for their Sunday roast,
Second hand
bookshops, paperbacks & used clothes for sale,
Straps
cutting fat shoulders, noses red sore & no longer pale,
Flamenco
nights & bullfights befitting the cruelty of sad man,
Drunken revelry
where the bulls once fled, wept & once ran,
Fandango
stamping, for the pleasure of clapping drunk Brits,
Dirty streets
with rubbish, where rats run & everyone spits,
Come one, come
all, to this marvelous town of easy cheap fun,
Come, get drunk,
get high, dance till dawn, get burnt in the sun,
Come to this town,
perverted place of sex & disposable virtue,
With greedy, eager
& open arms, we welcome & truly await you.
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