by | Nov 29, 2007 | Poetry | 0 comments

From Whitby near and Oz so far
Were mustered here at Scarborough SPA

With greying hair and aching hips
To talk with friends to us ‘’OLD SHIPS’’

Gathered here to shoot the breeze
Helps us to forget our aching knees

No more jumping or shouts of Joy
But still proud to be a Ganges Boy

No Talk of Knots or fancy bends
We thank the Lord for our good friends

Absent Friends


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