Farewell to Madrid

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There’s more to do when in Madrid
Than watch parades of men in hoods
Especially when the weather’s good
In spring.

It’s good to be outside and warm
To bask in welcome spring time heat
Find good things to drink or eat.
My thing.

Great wide open public spaces
Tall treed gardens, sun filled plazas
Snack in sun filled squares on tapas.
Fit in.

The city has so much to offer.
Places to go and things to do
Palace Real, Cathedral, Prado
Great thing.

Velazquez, Goya art to spare.
There’s Real Madrid, Athletico
The Santiago Bernabeu.
They sing.

But all good times must have an end
Our time is up we have to go
Goodbye to sights we got to know
Travelling.

Tamborrada (Easter Sunday, Madrid)

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Tamborrada Easter SundayMadrid

And behold, there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled back the stone and sat on it.” Matthew 28:2 (ESV)

Easter Sunday Tamborrada
Beat their drums in Plaza Mayor
See the drummers of Madrid
Beat their drums to say he lives.
Christ is risen from the dead
Say the drums of old Madrid.

Banging, banging Tamborrada
Beat their drums in old Madrid
Drummers marching; past a hundred
Beat their drums to say he lives.
Christ is risen, from the dead
Say the drums of old Madrid.

Buildings shaken by the sound
Of the beating, beating drums;
Rising to a great crescendo
Shakes the streets and buildings round.
Rumbling like a mighty earthquake
Great vibrations through the ground.

Banging drums the Tamborradas
Sound the message that he lives.
Beat their drums in old Madrid
Sound the message that he lives
Christ is risen from the dead
Say the drums of Old Madrid.

 

Happy Easter Everyone!

 

Passed Masters

 

I passed a masterpiece today
I passed a few what can I say?
We did the Prado, Thyssen too.
How many pictures? Barely know.

Caught Picasso, Tintoretto
Saw a Goya, a Titian or two.
Others we passed, what can I say?
We missed a few. It’s how things go.

Visitation, crucifixion
Salvation now annunciation.
Here’s another; come this way.
We wander past them to and fro.

That’s a Monet, and there’s a Bosch.
We can look but must not touch.
This one’s Durer, that’s El Greco
Velasquez here, some Reubens too.

Now a room of gentry, royalty.
Carlos third; we know that nose.
On and on and on it goes.
All we tourists passing through.

There’s classic figures nude, unclothed,
Pictures of heaven only knows.
Round and round and round we go.
So many rooms we just pass through.

Masters painted, sought perfection
Showed technique and dedication.
But we can’t really take it in
And what we see we hardly know.

The artists could have never known
Their pictures would like this be shown;
Now just another wandered past
That should stand proudly on its own.

I passed a masterpiece today.
I passed a few what can I say?
We did the Prado and Thyssen too.
How many pictures? Barely know.