Langue   

Floating Hell

Tony Smith
Langue: anglais




My darling daughter Annabel
‘Twas good to speak with you tonight
I hope that you and yours are well
But your dear Mum just lost the fight

You told us not to come on board
The virus on such cruises it was rife
But your advice we ignored
At the cost of your mother’s life

Now I am on a floating hell
If I get home I’ll be in quarantine
They’ll lock me in a tiny cell
Till they’re sure that I am clean

We tried to get back our fare
But found we were too late
We thought the virus we would dare
But should not have tempted fate

We were not so long out at sea
Perhaps it was the second day
The captain said he’d lost some crew
So in our cabin we must stay

Chorus

Your Mum cracked jokes about the room we had
Being no bigger than a grave
Then her breathing got really bad
And she was taken away

So Annabel my daughter fair
On to a cruise ship never sign
Just keep out in the open air
For this virus is not benign

Chorus



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