The Tourist PlanA Poem by David Lewis Paget‘We
have to rule on the Tourist Plan,’ Said
Rogan Inchalot, ‘If
we haven’t come up with an answer soon Then
what have we really got? The
budget’s stuck into overdrive And
the costs are going to balloon!’ (The
future hung in the balance On
that Saturnday afternoon!) ‘We’ve
always kept it a secret,’ said The
man called Iron Girth, ‘So
what do we want with the tourists, All
those imbeciles, from Earth!’ ‘We
need to collar the dollars,’ said Minerva
Astropine, ‘We’re
never going to develop, if We
sit around, and whine!’ ‘Our
secret isn’t as safe today, With
all those satellites, It’s
becoming an inconvenience Whenever
we douse the lights! The
takings from the Casino drop The
punters stay in the dome, We
need to double our takings, then Just
send the tourists home!’ ‘But
what if they send their gangsters here, Their
armies, and their guns? How
will we ever defend ourselves, You
know how the story runs! There’s
twenty million refugees I
heard a broadcast say, All
spilling over their borders there, In
search of a place to stay!’ ‘They’ll
come out here in their feeble ships, Break
down, and S.O.S., While
we’ll be expected to rescue them…’ ‘In
their dreams!’ said Gunter Hess. The
meeting called for a show of hands But
was plunged in a sudden gloom, They’ve
shut the book on the Tourist Plan For the Dark Side of the Moon!
David Lewis Paget © 2012 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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