Oh baby, baby it's a wide world ...
Australia
Dominica
Turkey
Europe
The Winter WindThe winter wind
Comes howling into Holland From the North Sea, Wild and free. Racing across the countryside, Whistling through city streets, Rattling roof tiles with a fury, The winter wind, Wild and free. Until, Tired of his fun, He decides to flee, Whips away back out to sea, The winter wind, Wild and free. In Amsterdam The streets are littered With abandoned umbrellas Blown inside out, Their skeletal remains Bent at awkward angles, Tangled and forsaken. This is his legacy, The winter wind, Wild and free. GreeceIn the fishing villages and white washed homes,
Among the standing columns and fallen stones, In the hidden places of ancient bones, These are the places my heart roams. In the souvlaki shops that line the street, In the seaside tavernas, rowdy and neat, Under shady trees sheltered from shimmering heat, These are the places I like to eat. In the olive groves, cool and green, Among the statues, tall and lean, In the island lanes, narrow and clean, These are the places I’m glad I’ve been. In the fishing villages and white washed homes, Among the standing columns and fallen stones, In the hidden places of ancient bones, These are the places my heart roams. |
BrownFlorence is a brown town -
Her rooftop tiles Her warm toned bricks, Her fallen leaves And winter sticks, Her statues bronze, Her leather tanned, Her roast crackling pig And her buildings grand. Florence is a brown town A 50 shades of brown town, And the people, with tawny skins Sometimes crinkled by brown frowns, Have smiling brown eyes when lit by grins. Florence wears her brown gown To her toes. Her hemline brushes the muddied cobblestone streets, And the Arno, That brown serpent that slithers in from the east, Carrying melted snow and dirt, Rustles her skirt As it passes. |