The Road to Sweffling
To Felixstowe Ferry we race
On the way we see Foxhall
Cobbold Road has a lovely surface
A mute swan has a noisy call
At Hollesley we divert on a mission
Jeffrey Archer’s home one long year
I wonder which modern politician
We’d most like to accommodate here
At Orford the castle and quay
Across from a wartime addition
Where they sought to find the key
To nuclear warhead ignition
I’m thinking of Tina at Iken
A quaint little church by the Alde
Then onto Snape Maltings for luncheon
There’s clearly no wizardry involved
David’s map reading is quite unsettling
And I am getting rather dishevelled
I ask his opinion of Sweffling
He replies that he’s never sweffled
We’re looking out for the White Horse
It’s close to our digs near here
We spot one right on our course
But it’s trotting and not selling beer.
