New Zealand Souvenirs
And knick-knacks by the score
There are trinkets by the dozens.
And knick-knacks by the score.
And cold, well below zero.
And there is plenty more.
What happens in this land
Under the long black cloud
Where ice is a normality
And the bulls are well endowed
There are teams of rugby players.
That’s all that’s on the telly.
And nudists playing golf.
With long bits and a belly
So, if you want excitement
There are sheep and plenty more.
Grazing in the ice and green
At night they’ll make you snore.
New Zealanders are funny.
But not the ha-ha kind
We’ve met many peculiar
And sanity is hard to find.
So, if you want a holiday
And pick up some souvenirs.
Kiwis are bound to fleece you.
And leave you in arrears.
We are glimpsing odd glaciers
the icicles and snow
And are not sure of the route there
And probably will never know.
There now is a new meaning.
About going with the flow
Down in kiwi land
They call it the ice floe.
©
David Rudder
2013
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