We’re all going on a summer holiday,

On Friday everything will be alright,

We’ll be travelling down to the ferry,

That takes us to the Isle of Wight.

 

We’re going with our two granddaughters

As soon as we set off you can bet,

One will feel sick, the other will need to ‘go’,

And they’ll both ask “Are we there yet?”

 

It’s a four hour journey to the ferry,

But we’ve played this game before.

I’ll ask Mummy to bring their DVD players,

To make it a bit less of a chore.

 

Their daddy and his little brother

Hated long journeys as well,

They’d play thumb wars on the back seat,

Shout, punch each other, and yell.

 

“You get in the front, and you stay in the back!”

I’d shout at the top of my voice.

I would have preferred to go back home on my own,

If I’d been given the choice.

 

They’d always listen to a Postman Pat tape,

But after the twenty first repeat,

It kind of grates upon the nerves,

And makes you fidgety in your seat.

 

“Are we there yet” would come the question,

And I’d look around and say “Don’t! –

When we get there we’ll be there,

And until then we won’t.”

 

“But I’m bored!” would come the cry,

And a foot would kick his brother,

“He kicked me!” A voice would whine,

“I hate him!” Yelled the other.

 

Then magically we had arrived.

The sun came out to play.

Two little boys were let out from their cage,

To fight another day.

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