Venice, ah Venice, the romance, the love,
The gondolas, water and clocktower above,
The weekend of sleeping together at night,
The morning of waking to heavenly light.

Bollocks to Venice. I'll never go now.
As long as they're lovers, I'll never allow
A visit to memories twisting so deep:
For Venice is built on the tears that I weep,
And Venice a tidal wave starting to swell,
And Venice my landmark on B-road to hell,
And Venice a beacon on witch-burning night,
And Venice the chasm which swallows my light.