TWENTY ELEVEN!!!

I look out the window,
Tourists aimlessly shambling;
There's no walk of purpose,
Just shuffling and ambling.
They stop and they stare at things,
Faces all grumbling;
They watch all the pennies,
Though tummies are rumbling.
The hotel does dinner,
Its in with the reckonings,
Its only six hours away,
Sightseeing's beckoning.
The Victorian Town Crier
Appears, loudly condemning
The seagulls. The tourists
Move together, like lemmings,
Towards him. He's shouting out,
"Don't feed the birds!
They're becoming a nuisance!
They'll attack you in herds!
Go to the Preacher's rock,
We have a treat for you!
The local singing Christians
Will perform now, before you.
Just listen to the preacher
And you'll go to hHeaven!"
I want to scream
ITS THE YEAR TWENTY ELEVEN!!!

25.Sep.2011