I started travel on my bum –
A nappied slide across the floor:
The pensioner I’ve now become
Travels that way more and more.
The mode of transport that one chooses
May be ferry, bus or train;
The one that most my bum abuses
Is a Mike O’Leary plane.
I’m not complaining, not at all.
While sitting down, my mind is free
To think of when I learned to crawl
And so became explorer me.
That urge to travel, deep inside
Was boosted by new walking skills
Then with my bike I used to ride
For hours through the local hills.
Began to hitch and passed my test
So each year further drove and flew
Thinking distant places best
Although inside I always knew
You travel best at slowest pace
With time to look, to feel, to hear;
To smell the breeze upon your face;
To see a butterfly appear;
To talk with those you chance to meet;
Carried by your own two feet.
