That’s it then
We have been to Pisa, Florence and Siena
We have seen those rolling hills
Of Tuscany, with a nod of beauty to Vienna
Not quite as vibrantly verdant
As the advertiser’s imaginary pages
Not so sure that the slant
Lines up, to the hard on the feet stages
But for sure there is something
In the Italian’s passion for religion’s bones
In Pisa, in Florence, in Siena
Everywhere we touched the Catholic’s stones
We are Rome’s new benefactors
Paying our entrance dues
We’ve replaced the communion communication
With our lifelong sprawling queues
We’ve travelled on the railways
Past graffiti and mundane council flats
We’ve rolled our designer suitcases
Over centuries-old stone flags
We’ve been to restaurants and cafés
Eaten gelato, and drunk Peroni too
We’ve tested the art of the Uffizi
Gormley, on the ramparts; he we already knew
