Call this a Holiday?

by Ian H Bruce (2008)

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Walking through long wet grass
Swinging my old windlass
I trudge from lock to lock, rarely on board
Stepping in muddy pools
Why am I such a fool?
A love of canals should bring more reward

Chorus :
Raise up the paddle and push on the balance beam
Cold in the pouring rain, Open that gate
Then trudge round t’other side, Why is it just too wide?
Don’t drop the windlass . . . Whoops, it’s too late!

He steers the narrowboat
Why’s that so difficult?
Eating and drinking while floating along,
Slowing to say hello
Listening to Status Quo
Swearing at fishermen, all the day long

Call this a holiday?
All I see’s work not play
Cooking and cleaning’s no labour of love
Then when the locks appear
Open those lock gates, dear!
Cries from the captain to give one more shove

Hands slip on balance beam
I let out such a scream
Turn black and blue from each full blooded bruise
While down in the lock below
He sips a red Bordeaux
Senses KO’d by a skin-full of booze

Then when the boating’s done
He thinks it’s time for fun
Batteries charged from relaxing all day
He grins like a Cheshire cat
Until he’s turned down flat
The captain deflates like a cooling soufflé

Dedicated to all those waterway crew members who spend more time on the towpath than on the boat. This should be popular with 50% of the audience!