The party decides it's hometime. Coo sings a synopsis for the journey back to the offices. It isn't in epic metre this time, because Coo found that rather hard :>/
Our photo is from Visit Cornwall's Isles of Scilly page :>)
Homing Song'I sing of travels started in the summer of this year
involving me, dear Coo, FT, the mossops, and some beer;
FT had just departed from a workshop sort of site
in need of writing verses very foolish, very light.
'Thus it was fine coincidence she brushed a mossop's head
and opened up a portal, to the Scillies as it led,
beginning on St Mary's Isle, the merry mossops' home,
and old Star Castle, where the ghost of QE likes to roam.
'Upon Town Beach we met a spirit-sailor, that was Chuck,
he told us of the drowning of the SS Thames, worse luck;
and also of the Abbey Gardens, final resting place
of Thames's stony figurehead, a man of handsome face.
'We sailed to Tresco next, for that is where the Gardens lie,
accompanied by fish and seals and gulls with squawky cry;
on our arrival, we were greeted by a singing court
of figureheads from sunken ships or mishaps close to port.
'We found the Thames man in the Gardens, pining for the sea,
yet grateful for our gift of lilies and their fumes was he;
and later we observed a stylish sight from Abbey arch,
a company of spirit-monks, engaged in hepta-march.
'To Bryher were we bound next morning, but along the way
we neared grim Hangman's Island, saw a royalist a-sway;
our gulls swept off this vision and we made an early lunch
in slick Hell Bay Hotel, with tasty breads and cheese to munch.
'A black storm petrel took us on a tour of Bay of Hell,
explaining how he relished all the rain and wind and swell,
and following this meeting we departed Samson bound,
while I read out the story of a knight of Table Round.
'On reaching Samson we received a song from that isle's hosts,
a mournful number thrice performed by clan of Limbo ghosts,
but Coo & Co invited them aboard our svelte sea-ship
for cheering mushroom soup and then a birding trancing trip.
'I sang of Troytown Maze once we were on St Agnes' Isle,
and then we crossed to Gugh to see a stone in leaning style;
from here we journeyed up St Mary's côte, from feet to stalk,
the evening sea was treacly ink, come morning smooth as chalk.
'Our last excursion saw us drift to Cove of Bread & Cheese
on Island of St Martin, which is not adorned with trees,
yet by the red-and-white-striped daymark we sat down to dine
with greenial The Jumblies, crunching soup and downing wine.
'At present I am sitting on our vessel's pleasant deck,
while mossops sleep and FT wraps a scarf around her neck,
for Autumn is upon us now, and we desire to sing
about another trip we made, which proved most interesting.'
Then Coo capped up her pen and placed it back inside its slot
within her trusty notebook full of poem, prose, and plot;
the hills and fields of Gloucestershire were coming into view
and all the trees in falling robes of gold-and-scarlet hue.
Poetry by Coo & Co
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Written on 2018-10-29 at 19:26
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