| About me: | It was on the day of the Glasgow Trade fair I set forth and wandered
Along the greening dewy glens with underpants unlaundered
Eight pot noodles and a mouldy tent made sure of my survival
In Scotland's misted wilderness and ultimate arrival
At lovely Cannich YHA, extolled in works of fiction,
I happily set down my pack, (and) explored the members kitchen
Hostellers from far and wide with cheery beards and sandals
Went busily about their tasks with not a hint of scandal
A friendly german couple sat and shared their boiled potatoes
Earnest cyclists compared pumps and talked of close-set ratios
A red-faced girl spoke softly of her rambling holiday
Whilst I cleaned my boots and stowed my anorak away
But shortly after eight o-clock, as we played a game of rummy
The warden came to the common-room, his demeanour far from sunny
"Gather round, all hostellers!" He tore the calm assunder
We sat stock-still, stopped mid-deal, and listened as he thundered:
I have something I must say to you.
Something I never thought in my WILDEST dreams I would EVER have to say.
Something awful, something terrible has happened in the male ablutions.
Someone, a small child, perhaps, or possibly a dog
(But judging by the size of what is there, I doubt it very much)
Has left a THINGYon the floor, yes, EXCREMENT has been DEPOSITED there.
Would the person who did this terrible thing please put their hand up now?
If no-one owns up, I shall have no choice but to report ALL OF YOU
To the SCOTTISH YOUTH HOSTELS ASSOCIATION.
The longest silence came and went, we sat and shook with fear
But no-one put their hand up, no-one did I hear
Admit that they had done the deed and pooed upon the floor.
The warden gave out one last sigh, and turned, and closed the door. |
