Greek without tears. (written for Donna).
Well there I was in Corfu
to see the sights I'd dreamt;
the Acropolis; Colossus,
I wondered where they'd went?
'Twas barren, grey and rocky,
just a tiny speck of land,
and I combed that blessed island
with guide book clutched in hand.
Then a happy Greek named Spiros
took me to his little cafe,
Lent me his binoculars
and pointed out my gaffe.
Across the water I could see
all the sights my eyes desired.
I checked my book: wrong island,
then blushingly retired.
Spiros shrugged his shoulders,
then offered me some wine,
I smiled and felt a little like
Miss Shirley Valentine.
Time passed, we drifted gently,
the evening drew to close.
He grinned a grin; I stayed there,
'til the morning sun arose.
And all and more my heart desired,
every dream took soaring flight,
for my very own Colossus
was mine that star crossed night.
And next time I go a'travelling
to that far off distant shore,
rest assured I'll call on Spiros
for a touch of sweet l'amour
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