I wish I was in St Palais where shards of sunlight teem

In the cool Atlantic breeze of Charente-Maritime;

Where the black kites fly

In a cloudless sky

Like a sultry, Gallic dream,

Where fishermen’s sheds

Tend the oyster beds

In Charente-Maritime.

 

I wish I was in La Palmyre by La Cote Sauvage

A Cafe Viennois for lunch, du pain and du fromage.

Where the mackerel shoal

And the breakers roll

And the daytimes never seem

Long enough to do

The beach and zoo

In Charente-Maritime.

 

I wish I was in Augustine, children in the pools

Long cognacs in the afternoons, evenings playing boules.

Le Train Touristique

Crossing marsh and creek

Of the Seudre and its streams

Steams sedately on

Towards Saujon

In Charente-Maritime.

 

I wish I was in La Tremblade gazing out to sea

Behind a bowl of hot mouclade with French bread for tea.

Where the cattle lie

‘Neath a starlit sky

And the sluggish gullies gleam

Where an egret sifts

Mud for Nature’s gifts

In Charente-Maritime.

 

But now I’m home and Charentime’s a million miles away;

I join the daily rat-race queues with mortgages to pay

But if I should find

That my pompous mind's

Full of vacuous self-esteem

I remember days

Spent in worthier ways

In Charente-Maritime.