Spectator Competition: August society

In Competition 3363 you were invited to write a poem about holidaymakers from a local’s perspective. Thanks to Paul Freeman for this suggestion. There was a lovely crop of entries and once again there were too many runners-up to single anyone out. The winners get £25.

We hates and needs,
Waters and feeds
And sates the greeds
O’ grockles.

They loafs and basks,
Int’rupts our tasks
Fool questions asks,
Do grockles.

In shorts, no shirts,
They suncream squirts,
Coarsely they flirts,
Our grockles.

They makes their hay,
Comes, goes away:
We makes ’em pay,
The grockles.

Adrian Fry

To Bonnie Scotland summer has now come again
Although alas there is often quite a lot of rain,
But we welcome tourists who come every day
Across the Mighty Forth or the Silv’ry Tay
Or indeed any other way they please
If they spend a muckle lot of bawbees.
The tourists visit us from countries all
To see Auld Reekie’s famous festival,
And even His Majesty the King comes to Deeside,
Where his great-great-great-grandmother used to reside.
But also ordinary people often bring their wealth
To boost Fair Scotia’s economic health
By buying a sporran or even a sgian dubh,
Or a fine teapot shaped like a hielan’ coo,
And especially wee books of poetry
By me, William McGonagall (Bard), of Dundee.

Brian Murdoch

I commented to Dafydd boy:
‘I love those tourist berks:
They ask about the viaduct,
Then tell us how it works!’
And Dafydd nodded, looking sage,
So I described the fools:
‘They crawl their way to Snowdon’s peak
In flip-flops and cagoules!’
‘I’ve heard,’ said Dafydd, circumspect,
‘They’re generous – moneywise.’
‘Exactly so!’ I blurted out;
‘So let’s just compromise:
They tour all year, if they desire,
But let it be by drone,
Then send a big fat envelope,
Sans car, sans coach, sans phone!’

Nicholas Lee

Feedback sheets are on our front desk.
Someone wrote on one of those sheets
That we are a ‘bed and breakfast’,
When we are in fact Boutique Suites.
I have read some other feedback
Sounding off about our high tea,
Writing that we’d call it dinner
If we ‘weren’t so high and mighty’.
These