Hi guys, I wonder if there are any budding poets out there who might like to share their camper related prose with the rest of us here? Back in 1998 myself and my bus were still in the love struck honeymoon period, she could do no wrong and I would do anything for her, ahh, those were the days . Anyway, so loved up was I that I put pen to paper and came up with... To a Volkswagen Campervan They ask why I bother, they have no notion no appreciation of your flat four commotion Painfully slow, eccentric and dated by middle class clones and boy racers you’re hated Through cylinders finned the cooling air courses your rear mounted boxer and it’s faithful old horses That unique exhaust note and tappety din in a world of conformity you just don’t fit in But Volkswagen Campervan, Bay Window or Bus or kitchen, lounge, bedroom transform without fuss Devon, Westfalia, Cantabury Pitt Danbury, Viking they’ve all done their bit No wonder your progress is ponderous and laboured with brick silhouette dynamics aren’t favoured But oh transporter of happiness still with luck on our side we’ll climb any hill If it wasn’t for me and the hippie revival you know you could question your scrapyard survival So aircooled antique you give all you’ve got that old heart still beating and tailpipe still hot And in winter’s depths let’s remember our chuckles of fingernails black, frustration, skinned knuckles That’s not what I meant as well you’re aware true there’s give and there’s take but that’s only fair Forget not those times in the banks and the braes on impulse we’d stop, at the grandeur we’d gaze Those times when the road lay twisted and long through dell and through dale you sang your sweet song And even as others boiled in the heat we shuffled on past never missing a beat Then onward to camp and rest at last through wide open door our garden lay vast Turn up the hi-fi the bass notes start spilling reach for a beer, relax and start chilling And later in sleep past journeys unravel Unparalleled freedom of Transporter travel So when they ask why an old Type 2 van I quietly smile and reply ‘cause I can It’s not just for transport or statement of fashion for me it’s essentially a lifestyle, a passion Written by me 1998 I can't be the only one, can I?
I wrote this little one in my post-resto delirium: Iris A passion. A dream. An aging beauty. A rusty queen. A heartache, headache, p**s-take, "For f**k's sake!", Not quite a mistake. A headturner, money burner, time churner, life learner. Weld, sand, paint, Patience of a saint, Tired, I might faint. Get it done. Is this fun? Another late one. OMG! Look at me! Is it a splitty? No pain, no gain. A trip to spain? On the road again... ...Iris.
From when he was a young man, He’d dream of what he’d own, A piece of German Engineering, A four wheeled home from home. so he begged and stole and borrowed, To satisfy his lust, Then parked it on his driveway, And watched it turn to rust he had to sell a kidney To pay for the repair By the time the work was over He simply didn’t care so he flogged it off on eBay And took a massive loss Then shelled out for another Which made his Mrs cross if the lesson of this story Doesn’t fill you full of dread The you must already own one Or you must have banged your head so be careful of the spares you get Use some common sense Else the Chinese junk youre buying Will go over Snottys fence.
With apologies to Joni Mitchell: I've lost paradise I'm stuck in a parking lot With a broken bus 'cos the engine's running hot. Don't know why it doesn't go The engine's shot The dream is gone I've lost paradise I'm stuck in a parking lot. I should have sold it Or put it in a car museum And charged the folks A couple of quid just to see 'em. Chorus Hey Mister Salesman Put away that new T5. I want rust on my panels I want my bus to be alive! Chorus Late last night The belt snapped on my fan And a big yellow taxi Took away my old van. Don't know why it doesn't go The engine's shot, The dream is gone. I've lost paradise, I'm stuck in a parking lot.
There was an old bus from Barnsley, that went to the beach for a party. The engine did splutter, with rain in the gutter. And now it's sounding all farty With due respect to our Barnsley folk (@crossy2112)
If I could turn back time If I could find a way I'd take back those words that'll hurt you and you'd stay But I bought another bay And you ran away
