Alor Setar is really far,
There’s nothing there, it’s pretty bare.
The taxi driver said to me,
(and he was serious as could be)
“Sini takde benda yang best!”
I thought he was simply being… modest.
He tried, he suggested Muzium Padi
I enquired further, I hoped that maybe
Muzium Padi would impress,
However, it sounded far from “best”
And then he took me to a mall,
Promising I’d have a ball,
I soon found out my choices were
Not Ferragamo or Lewre
But Mr Gulati’s House of Silk
And other products of that ilk.
Carrying on, what hope he offered!
(I silently wished I hadn’t bothered)
“If you’re willing to venture far,
you’ll find yourself on the steps of Bata!”
Har dee har, he was now laughing,
And I was on the verge of barfing,
I swore I’d shoot him in the face,
Strangle his kids in Gulati’s lace,
But that was when he said to me,
There was a way I could be free,
The next flight out was in an hour,
I’d make it if I didn’t shower!
Whoopee! Hurray! I was on my way!
As the plane readied for take off,
The driver looked glad I’d buggered off,
But I didn’t care, I said not au revoir,
To this town called Alor Setar.