Ballade for the Birds

The San Antonio by Saint Paul’s Bay
is in Qawra, Malta, the George Cross isle.
It’s a comfortable, clean place to stay
where staff excel, adept – in a calm style –
always dealing with guests with a warm smile.
But evil mars a stay on this island,
one that Saint Francis would think the most vile.
They shoot migrants. Each year, thirty thousand.

The room’s the regular four-star cliché
with all one needs for a short domicile:
firm beds, rail and shelves to put clothes away,
constant hot shower, big basin. Meanwhile,
to sit on the toilet is knees to tile.
The balcony is a street masque grandstand,
and to fields, empty sky – which brings up bile.
They shoot migrants. Each year, thirty thousand.

The Kosy Bar is a big bland foyer
but the Buffet delights the gastrophile.
Watch a world stream by from Maroc Café;
take a shoreline stroll when you’re more agile.
Or a nearby cheap bus to get mobile:
Valletta, Mdina, Gozo at hand,
but expecting to hear birds is futile.
They shoot migrants. Each year, thirty thousand.

Envoi

Finding fault with this hotel is puerile
for staff, comfort, dining, locale are grand.
But the banned evil one has to revile.
They shoot migrants. Each year, thirty thousand.

Knees-to-tile toilet
Coach unloading starts a concert
Gueliz restaurant food, food, food