Intrepid travelers, these three
Searched for the best of British,
But found it in a bowling lane,
Which should have made them skittish.
But, as I say, these three were brave and
Hungry fair, what’s more,
So they chowed down, and thus began
The North Wales Toilet Tour.
The great North Sea was cold that day,
And harsh and cold winds blew.
That didn’t help their steadiness,
‘Specially the female two.
Determined, though, to see the sights
Despite their distressed bowels,
They stopped and viewed the cold whitecaps
Until their stomachs howled.
But where were the facilities?
These three begged of each other.
In cold December restaurants close;
The tourist trade is smothered.
The roiling sea had nothing on
The happenings within.
The tension grew, and they knew
Error’s margin had grown thin.
Then – hope at last! – For up ahead,
And open shop! What’s more,
A café right beside the Blessed
Winter Tourist Store.
They rushed the loo – by one! by two!-
Thank God for indoor plumbing!
Their happiness was unsurpassed;
Their gratitude was stunning.
They had to hang about a while
In case their breakfasts made
A third appearance, so they loitered
Long, I am afraid.
Their fascination with the goods
In that Most Blesséd Store
Was unsurpassed – at least it seemed –
By any heretofore.
Then back into their car they climbed
And drove for a few minutes
Until they saw the next place that
Might have a toilet in it.
So ran the hours – and ran and ran –
Until they all were hollow.
They turned toward home and now hear this:
(It’s counsel you should follow.)
Please let this be a moral tale
For travelers everywhere.
Though British fry-ups can be nice,
You’d better choose with care.
A bowling alley may not be
Your best choice in food, for
You really should avoid your own
Great North Wales Toilet Tour!