I've drunk warm beer in English pubs,
and been to Scotland, too.
I've crossed the US west to east—
on Tower Air I flew.
I bought a hand-made suit while I
was visiting Hong Kong,
and spent a few days in Japan,
then sadly said, "So long."
In Holland I encountered roads
that were completely flat;
Italian cities are the best—
there's little doubt of that.
In Germany, when I was there,
the Schwarzwald was snow white,
and Innsbruck is a gorgeous place
when viewing it at night.
My mind was filled with wonder at
the Palace of Versailles;
I tried my luck in Monaco—
the stakes were way too high.
While in my travels I have seen
far more than my fair share;
there's no where else of which I'd say
I'd rather I lived there.
Though there's no spot on Earth I've been
that I would want to scorn,
my heart belongs to only one—
the place where I was born.
There are no tow'ring summits here,
no jungles, so to speak.
Of ancient buildings, we have none,
our ski slopes aren't unique.
Instead of meadows you will find
a thirsty, sun-scorched land;
the paddocks often brown and dry,
or mostly dust and sand.
Of wildlife, most examples are
inclined to be quite small;
and many that can kill you
are the tiniest of all.
The world is full of wondrous sights,
each continent is full
of features making it unique,
and each has its own pull.
But I could never leave these shores
and stay away for good;
for homesickness is what I feel
far from my neighbourhood.
So be proud of your ancient towns,
the histories they tell;
your country's scenic beauty and
its man-made sights as well;
but I won't swap my star-filled skies
for postcard fields of green;
nor leave the land that I call home
for places transmarine.
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Author Notes
Today's word: transmarine (adj.) crossing, or across, the sea.
Schwarzwald: Black Forest.
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