Saturday morning bus to Liverpool
Blue skies way above John Lennon Airport
Before noon, easyJet made us look fools
But we boarded, acted like we were taught
We caught the S-3 to Spandau which brought
Us past Alexanderplatz on the train
Brought us to our hotel, which was a sort
Of railway station hotel, and a pain
Next morning I awoke holding this pen
And with this poem, unfinished, and full
Of beer and headache, hearing the report
Of a German woman who kept saying
Train times, though I was full, oh much too full
Of beer to care... This poem was hard-fought
Sat 23 July
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