Do Not Lie Down In That Hot Sun
Do not lie down in that hot sun
Your skin will burn and peel, but not get tanned;
Red raw you’ll be, and have no fun.
You ladies, you go out and think you’ve won,
You know that oils and creams have not been banned;
Do not lie down in that hot sun.
Young studs, be careful in the day, for as night’s begun,
You’ll wish to dance and sing and soon get canned;
Red raw you’ll be, and have no fun.
Crazy days of beer, banana boats and beaches can be done,
But seek the shade that often lies so close at hand.
Do not lie down in that hot sun.
As burning, bursting rays of UV light, as from a gun,
Pour down from cloudless skies upon that arid land.
Red raw you’ll be, and have no fun.
And you, my child, grown up, burnt like a bun,
Your youthful ageing skin, I see it blister there upon the
sand.
Do not lie down in that hot sun.
Red raw you’ll be, and have no fun.
Explanatory notes
Written during the long hot summer of 2005, whilst staying
at the charming and isolated VillaNelle in the south of France. I learnt my lesson that year; no longer
will I lie in the sun, unclad.
It was sheer stupidity on my part. I know that now. At times
the pain in my Dylan Thomas became unbearable; poetic justice you might say. So
I penned these words of warning to anyone foolish enough to bare all, like me.
Perhaps it would have been better to have simply called it “Rage, rage against
the burning of the light!”.
I owe a debt of thanks to the men and women of the French postal service who, throughout that summer, carried up to the Villa all my deliveries of calamine lotion and sun cream. I knew none of their names, of course, just their service numbers. To anyone considering a stay in that delightful villa, I especially commend to you Facteur 50.
