The Grand Tour

I found this poem on the Net. It's by Cicely Fox Smith poet of many a sailor and soldier poem in the early 20th century. Despite the slightly racist undertone of its final stanzas (don't forget, this was the 1920s and for many the World was still this strange thing Out There and Unknown),  it's sort of 'fitting' in the context of our Traipse Through Europe. Apparently a lot of the poet's poems 'ave been turned into folk songs. Enjoy.

  

I always wished to see the world, I 'ad no chanst before,
Nor I don't suppose I should 'ave if there 'adn't been no war;
I used to read the tourist books, the shippin' news also,
An' I 'ad the chanst o' goin', so I couldn't 'elp but go.

We 'ad a spell in Egypt first, before we moved along
Acrost the way to Suvla, where we got it 'ot an' strong;
We 'ad no drink when we was dry, no rest when we was tired,
But I've seen the Perramids an' Spink, which I 'ad oft  desired.

I've what 'll last me all my life, to talk about an' think,
I've sampled various things to eat an' various more to drink;
I've strolled among them dark bazaars, which makes the pay to fly
(An' I 'ad my fortune told as well, but that was all my eye!)

I've seen them little islands too — I couldn't say their names —
An' towns as white as washin'-day, an' mountains spoutin' flames;
I've watched the sun come lonely up on miles an' miles of sea,
Why, folks 'ave paid a 'undred pound an' seen no more than me!

The sky is some'ow bluer there — in fact, I never knew
As any sun could be so 'ot or any sky so blue;
There's dates an' figs an' suchlike things all 'angin' on the trees,
An' black folks walkin' up an' down as natural as you please.

I always wished to see the world, I'm fond o' life an' change,
But Abdul got me in the leg; an' this is passin' strange,
That when you see old England's shore, all wrapped in mist an' rain,
Why, it's worth the bloomin' bundle to be comin' 'ome again!