Club Med-itation

I stumble stitchless from my bed
And scratch my vino-sodden head
Then join the bums down on the beach
Where bronzed busts line up out of reach
Forms pressed and worked by other hands
Away from scorching sun-stroked sands

The bums meantime stretch out on towels
And listen to their unquiet bowels
While methinks idly should I try
Once more before I start to fry
Or lie and swelter by the Med
Among the naked and the dead

. . . . . . . . . . .

Too much sun and Spanish tummy
Have left their mark on this poor dummy
A scabby skeleton «sans» money
- I would write more but I feel funny !