Cruise Trip Blues 

to the tune of Frer Jaques

Norovirus,
Norovirus,
Not the flu,
Not the flu.

I am on the poop deck,
Looking for the puke deck.
Feeling blue,
Feeling blue.

Norovirus,
Norovirus,
Not the flu,
Not the flu.

Forgot to washy-washy,
Now my tummy’s sloshy.
Feel like poo,
Feel like poo.

Norovirus,
Norovirus,
Not the flu,
Not the flu.

Medical is crowded,
I ate what the crowd did.
Cordon bleu,
Cordon bleu.

Norovirus,
Norovirus,
Not the flu,
Not the flu.

All of us are leaving,
Hope that this is fleeting.
No more spew.
No more spew.

Dire Straits 

The Straits of Gibraltar
Should be quite a sight.
Unless, of course,
You cross them at night.

The lights of Europe
Off your port side in the night,
Africa is to your starboard.
What most people call “right”.

I suppose seeing the lights
Of two continents is romantic,
But I think I would prefer more,
After crossing the Atlantic.

Wondering why Cruise Critic
Is not set all aflame
With furious passengers
Who love to complain.

Meeting People 

Even on a ship,
People are in cocoons.
There should be a way
To have some interactions.

I found an easy way.
Wander down the halls.
Look for “Do Not Disturb.”
Change to “Make Up Cabin.”

You have allowed people
To meet their cabin steward.
Bringing people together.
Feel good about yourself.

Garden Cafe

Sitting at the Garden Cafe,
The Golden Corral of the Sea.
Buffets, the great equalizer.

Watching the world go by.
Masses of people,
Masses of calories.

Many look very lost.
Some look confused.
Some look … wow.

This is the same gene pool
That gave us Heidi Klum
And Stephen Hawking.

Hard to believe.
I need dessert.
Back into the crowds.