We should be on a ship,
Sailing across the sea.
Yet, we’re stuck at home,
Bored as we can be.
The living room’s our Lido Deck,
But there isn’t much to do.
We don’t have any contests,
There isn’t any pool.
Our buffet is open all day long,
It’s called the kitchen here.
There’s not a wide selection,
And bars don’t have any beer.
We can go out on excursions,
Just like on any cruise.
It’s now a bit like gambling,
With just your life to lose.
The back porch is our balcony,
The back yard’s our open sea,
The view just never changes,
We’re docked at Homestead Quay.
I’m not that fond of Miami,
But it’s where the ships all live.
They won’t sail up to Dallas,
No matter how much I give.
We’re off to Barcelona,
I’ve never been to Spain.
(But I kinda like the music.)
That song is quite a pain.
See you in a couple weeks,
We’ll be sailing across the sea.
I’ll be thinking of you always.
Don’t have meetings without me!
Home at last.
Back to reality.
A vacation used to end when Dad said,
“Let’s get in the car. We’re late.”
Then, the end was when a flight attendant said,
“Would you like another Scotch? We’re landing in fifteen minutes.”
Later, vacation’s end was your wife asking,
“Are you going to help pack or just sit there?”
On a cruise, the vacation ends when you say,
“Wait. I need to get my wallet out of the safe.”
Never say “I never get seasick.”
Unless you are near a restroom.
When you get home and drive back to work,
Your rush hour speed will be the same as the ship’s.
You can easily over-eat at the buffet.
This can be avoided by over-drinking.
In a group of thousands of passengers,
You will see the same ten over and over.
If a red light is on by the restroom door,
You can meet someone by opening it.
(They may not want to meet you.)
If your fruit juice tastes funny,
Somebody forgot the rum.
If you are not within sight of a bar or restaurant,
You are overboard. Call for help.