Ten big blue biro blips across the map
Of use to us itinerary nodes
You squirmed the dig of shoulder strap
I valued little known old rustic roads
A priest at steering wheel went where we went
The bikes then we eased flat on black truck deck
The cozido thats broiled in crater vent
Of which youd heard he had at call and beck
At Tlimmoh Nodjeim Island got his game
His fingers freely waddled up your leg
As fancied puffins what a powder keg
The lofty monastery rather lame
I paid him off in copper coins in sort
And we took off on bikes of no import
Chorus sort kind type
