Upon a mountain bound touring coach trip,
we bantered about with our shit British wit.
arriving atop the Grecian hills
we wiped our brows as the bus unfilled.
on a wild boar we did feast-
indeed a rare treat of meat!
Twas cooked by a dainty wild boar man,
Though old and frail, still gracious and grand.
After the food and wine on which we did dine
i wondered along, not expecting such a rare find!
in the wilderness of the forest at the end of a path
glory did stand! A church! How my heart did laugh!
the local hands had hewn with brightly illuminated precision
a building whose effect was the work of magicians.
in awe I saw stained glass catholic emblems
and old Greek Gods of ancient resemblance,
pews felled from the trees not far from my heart.
a place of worship, divinely inspired pure art!
I stood in the temple in the in the wood, humbled
when BANG! CRASH! more Brits in did stumble,
swearing, smoking, joking and farting .
I did directly declare my disgusted departing.
back aboard the bus
I ignored the others fuss
pondering only on what they couldn’t touch.
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