Two of us on a sixties hippie trip
to see if our gears would slip or mesh
innocent but wary yet wide-eyed
to the Imperial city of Marrakech
she perfumed with patchouli
me I traveled totally tie-dyed
all around was peace and love
we teamed to a tee and seemed
a fit the perfect hand in glove
but not long later it was deemed
as it was commonplace to see
in the medina not strapped for cash
kif from the Rif sellers
in the souk smoking hash
the country lacked law and order
no sooner said than escorted
back to Ceuta across the border
funny now in retrospect but not then
how when we blew out on the Sirocco
tho' we hadn't gone so far as the kasbah or bazaar
were deported without ceremony from Morocco
Rabat is a black pearl
Of cellophanic rainbow
Gazing upon waves that curl
And lick a shore little known.
Gibraltar is the dock
Where it steadfast moors –
Enjoying sailboats that flock
The Mediterranean course
Yet Barbary lions live
Not far, in the Rif Mountains –
Golden, assertive –
Their kasbah amid the grass.