Spanish ladies know what a shopping trolley’s for,
On markets, it is used as a weapon of war,
For every year they hit my ankles harder,
As a punishment for sinking their Armada.
Their menfolk are a bit more subtle, I think,
They get me with the silly price of drink,
And if that lot doesn’t make me ill,
Then there are the Guardia Civil.
They pull up English tourists just for fun,
Fine them and then let them carry on.
In towns they have Policia Local,
Our British Parking Warden’s closest pal.
If you’re a nano-second over time,
They issue you with a very heavy fine.
But the very cruellest of all,
Are numerous but very, very small.
These miniature marauders stake their pitch
On our skin, then bite and make us itch.
Do you wonder what I’m getting at?
The Spanish mosquito and the Spanish gnat!
Lynne Joyce, 05-05-2007.