It’s an Artificial Paradise <br />Here in the Vale Da Plenty <br /> <br /> <br />Security keeps the peasants out <br />Unless there’s bins to empty <br />And shirts to iron <br />Beds to change <br />Floors to sweep on Wednesday <br /> <br />They’ve a Portuguese lady does each week <br />They think her name’s Miranda <br />But they’re not sure <br />They’re always out <br />At the clubhouse bar veranda <br /> <br />Ferdinando cuts their grass <br />And trims their Bougainvillaea <br />If he trimmed for them <br />In Tunbridge Wells <br />Neighbours would fill with envillaea <br /> <br />They’ve been out here for six months now <br />They hear that things are grand <br />With Richard and Rose <br />At boarding school <br />In lonely grey England <br /> <br />Must dash they say we’ve got to play <br />A four with Bruce and May <br />A lovely couple <br />Don’t have kids <br />But a yacht called Little Ray <br /> <br />If they’d had kids they’d be so tied <br />It might have cramped their style <br />So they play all day <br />With their Little Ray <br />It’s like their Little Child <br /> <br />Oh its lovely here a paradise <br />They call it Vale Da Plenty <br />Without their golf <br />And sun and fun <br />Their lives would just be empty <br /> <br /> <br /> Martin Swords Sept ’08 <br /> Vale da Pinta/Gramacho <br /> Lagoa Portugal<br /><br />Martin Swords<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/artificial-paradise/
