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Dear Blog, I do so hope this finds you well;

That you, digesting all you’ve heard so far,

Do think yourself prepared for all I’ll tell

Of Day Five, touring with Clare College ‘Quaaarr’.

 

The day began before the dawn had cracked,

And (while downtown Columbus slumbered still)

We climbed upon the coach - with tiredness racked - 

And slept. We had not thought to wake until 

we reached North Carolina (it transpired 

That fathomless leagues hence this great place lay). 

Deprived of food and caffeine, though, and tired,

We had to stop to break our fast. To say

That finding service on a Sunday morn 

was quick or easy would be but a lie.

But hark! What sound? As tempers thin had worn 

“Weelllcooommeee to the Waaaaaaffle Hoooouuussseeeee!!!” was heard the cry.

 

Refuelled, we settled down back on the coach,

Intent on sleeping more. “Would that it were!” - 

For Harriet, with smug face, did encroach 

Upon our right to rest. Without demur

She did assume that all upon the bus

Would be delighted now a film to view

Yet all around began to swear and cuss 

When all she had to to show was ‘Happy Feet 2’.

Nonetheless, the screening did commence,

And, while the gleeful Alto did spectate,

The rest of us did use our common sense

And slept - for it was only half past eight. 

 

Six hours more to go, no less, and soon

The boredom did ensue, to be quite frank.

Some chose to do some work; some sang a tune;

Joe Payne went to the back to have a lie down. [sic].

 

An epoch had elapsed, when word of mouth 

Announced that we had stopped outside the church 

In Greensboro - Great Salem of the South.

And so, predictably, began the search

For toilets. But, in most an eager way,

Our great conductor, Graham, took to stage

Before the organists had chance to play!

And so, consumed by homicidal rage, 

Miss Carter (like her predecessor) tried

To murder Mr Ross, in coldest blood.

Post-intermission, fearing that he’d died, 

Our Can Bass 1 was forced to ‘beat the Wood’.*

 

But, thankfully, clutching his Tambourine,

Graham rose from the grave: Oh, Glorious Day!

He slapped his skin with vigour, and was seen

To lead the Choir forth in ‘Gaudete’.

Thereafter, all went on with out a hitch, 

‘til Toby ‘The Innumerate’ forgot 

His solo in ‘Twelve Days’; without a twitch,

Kit ‘The Valiant’ Holliday sang the lot.

 

As thund’rous notes rang out about the place - 

In works from Tallis, through to Santa Claus -

With one accord, and smiles on every face

The (half-full) audience rose up in applause.

 

And so, another day drew to its end;

The throng of thirty went their separate ways

To cosy homestays, there the night to spend

In blissful sleep (to coin a turn of phrase).

Despite the travel, there have been good times

Along the way. And now that I have sat

and written this, I’m running out of rhymes:

My final thought? Josh Cleary is annoying. 

 

Love, 

Can Bass 1

 

*Charles Wood