An Airmanís Farewell To Aden

 Land of toil, sweat and strain

Land of sun and maffish rain,

Sweat rash, footrot prickley heat

Aching hearts and blistering feet,

Swarms of flies that buzz and bite

Fans that hum throughout the night.

 

Land of scorpions, camels and bugs

Hasheesh, heena and other drugs,

Streets of sorrow, streets of shame

Streets you could never name,

Clouds of sand and dust that sends

The sanest ďbodĒ clean round the bend.

 

Donkeys, goats and pyiard dogs

Cut throat thieves and pestering clods,

Land where children in their teens

Sell souvenirs outside canteens,

Baksheesh! Baaksheesh! Is their cry

For this alone they live and die.

 

Where tinea thrives and gypo gripes

Where clods smoke hubbly bubbly pipes,

Where every native black and brown

Awaits for you to go down town,

Obnoxious smells, eternal strife

O for blighty and a wife.

 

Where tour-ex men just sit and gloat

While others dream about the boat,

There only aim to dodge and skive

Until their clearance chit arrives,

Their chief delight to laugh and shout

At some poor ďerkĒ thatís just come out.

 

Land of turbans, galaleah

Quais tamman, quais katir,

Land of chai and mungaria

Moya chappaties and Alsoppís beer,

Where one can always here men quake

About the thought of NAAFI break.

 

Oh! For Britainís happy life

Where people never know such strife,

My final chit, I am going home

Away from there Iíll never roam,

I am going home and Oh! How grand

To see green fields instead of sand.

 

Land of sorrow, filth and shame

Iíve seen you once but never again,

Iíll leave you now with no regrets

The sights Iíve seen Iíll never forget,

Nativeís heaven, white manís hell

ThisÖÖÖÖ! ADEN fare thee well.

 

Anon

 

Contributed by Bob Hambly