I wandered lonely as a chimp That flies on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a shrimp, A ghost, of golden thrills; Beside the lake, beneath Ian's knees, Flying and fluttering in the breeze.
Cumulus clouds building before the rain And thermals lifting on the way, They stretched in never-ending plane Along the margins of Filey bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The clouds over Filey Bay danced; they out-did the sparkling waves containing wee: #Ianthechimp is definately not grey, The hairy chimp did not ***: Ian gazedβand gazedβbut little thought (as usual), What lift the clouds to me had brought:
For this aft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in grumpy mood, They flash upon that final fly Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And paraglides with ok, but adequate flying skills.