Not seen up to six o’clock, but presumably will return

This here is a tale of woe An epic as some stories go. To Shetland we went

Large portions we spent What to see? I think you all know.

We sailed by the light of the moon, Some time getting on for late June. When we got there

We sat to prepare,

To tick it and hoped it be soon.

We heard all the cliff birds a’cry As Rock Doves and ‘Bonxies’ flew by. The atmosphere grand, As Puffins would stand, Beside us and give us the eye.

But as the day wore on by, Not a soul did this creature espy. The wind got quite strong, And before very long,

The rain tumbled out of the sky.

The damp misted up bins and ‘scope; But none of us ever lost hope.

The cliffs we did scour,

For hour after hour,

Not daring to twitch phalarope.

At last, at the end of the day, We went to where we would stay, A grand B + B,

With loads of hot tea,

And a bible to help you to pray.

Not that it did any good.

Well, I never thought that it would. Sunday was the same,

The bird never came,

We’d dipped, for nothing we’d stood.

We went back and got on the ship, All trying to laugh off the dip. The cabin was great,

The breakfast first rate, As into the harbour we’d slip.

To Birdline we anxiously turned, And from it we bitterly learned, Just as we set sail,

In the teeth of a gale,

The bloody thing went and returned!

So take heed all you birders out there Who twitch Shetland etc beware. There’s no guarantee,

What you rush off to see, Is going to be *$!#ing well there!