Three Scousers, a Brummie and little old me
Have come for a diving trip to the Red Sea.
Our boat's Tiger Lily, she looks a bit plush,
We check out our cabins, there's no need to rush.

Tiger Lily's a big boat, some would say grand,
With two crew to each guest, this is luxury land.
She's long and she's lusty, her hull's made of steel,
Her chef too is gifted, we scoff our first meal.

Two dive-guides give briefings, they're Khaled and James,
They know all the wrecks and remember our names.
There's Michael and Dougie and Johnnie and Wigan,
The first is quite small, while the last is a big 'un.

James is an Aussie, his name's Curtis-Smythe.
The dive deck is spacious, well it is for just five.
Forget hyphen-hyphen, he's now Jimmy Smith,
Khaled's Egyptian, the crew kin and kith.

We set up our stuff. There's a lot to remember.
Have we got all our kit? Only booked in December.
Bags are unpacked, torches plugged in to charge,
Some are compact, whereas others are large.

Cambands are fastened, regulators connected,
Pressures are checked, computers adjusted.
My tank's filled with nitrox, the others breathe air,
But I am a bit older, so that's only fair.

We set sail from Sharm, its old military port,
Spread out in our cabins. Saving space? Not a thought.
Woken at six, then with breakfast all done,
It's into the water. How warm is that sun?

Our first dive's a check-out to sort out our weights.
We get through our gases at varying rates.
I take up the option for a 15 litre tank.
The outlay is small, it won't break the bank.

It's winter in Egypt, the sea's a bit chilly,
There's a stiff wind blowing around Tiger Lily.
Last time I was here it was tropical seas,
The water this time's only 20 degrees.

I brought a thick wetsuit but I'll need more rubber.
It's all right for Wigan, he's got enough blubber.
James, to the rescue, gives me an extra jacket.
Worn over my wetsuit, I know I can hack it.

The boys are from Britain. They like rusty metal.
Their kit's ready for diving. No more need to fettle.
We're soon at the first wreck. It lies near a light,
We're at Beacon Rock, it's a famous dive-site.

The Dunraven steam-engine's on show back in Blighty,
An upturned hull, when it was once quite mighty.
What happens to wrecked ships defies all belief,
So smothered in marine-life, she's now coral reef.

Cruise over to Gubal, Abu Nuhas, more wrecks,
Giannis D is the first. We are soon on her decks.
Visit the engines, taking care not to stay,
Swim through the wheelhouse, don't lose your way.

Inside the funnel, a grouper is lurking,
It wouldn't be there if the engines were working.
Fin up to the bow, come back a bit later,
The reef's suffered with oil from this sunken Greek freighter.

With a wind from the North, it's by rubber boat,
Even swamped by the waves, we are certain to float.
Once over the dive-site, into water we plop,
It's a comfort to know a boat's sitting up top.

The Carnatic lies waiting, soft coral-clad spars,
From transom to bowsprit, like so many bars.
Lionfish hunt glassfish, all crowded together,
A flurry of movement - life isn't forever.

A steam-sailing ship that once came to grief,
When the man who was steering failed to notice the reef.
I still hold memories of her brass in my head,
Now it's all gone to Oxford and sits in a shed.

Overnight at Bluff Point and it's time to move on.
There are several wrecks waiting, as wetsuits we don.
The Rosalie Moller sits gloomy and sombre,
She's on even keel, sent down by a bomber.

The millions of glassfish mean plenty to feed
The jacks that attack them and take what they need.
The stern's a long swim but not too far, I feel.
Lionfish in numbers await the next meal.

She's a serious dive and a little bit deep,
But there is no current, don't lose any sleep.
Consecutive dives here mean deco takes time,
But on the way up you just hang on the line.

White-caps are forming, waves starting to chop,
Tiger Lily makes progress, solid as a rock.
No rocking or rolling, she's built for such weather,
If sea-sickness affects you, don't go on boats - ever!

Back over the gulf to the wreck in Sha'b Ali,
The Thistlegorm's famous as any wreck can be.
It's loaded with stuff, the debris of war,
T'was hit by a bomb and went down with a roar.

Motorbikes on trucks, and tyres and trains,
The tracks of a tank, the wings of some planes.
Her stern mounts two guns. There's no sign of a bell,
Mid-section reminds us of battle - war hell.

Away on the seabed and now home to puffers,
A ghostly steam-engine, its bogeys and buffers.
The vessel looks massive, the fo'c'sle's quite far,
The wreck is the proof of the wastage of war.

Barracuda in gangs and jacks in a school
To bring up a shell-case would make you a fool.
The sea in the morning is tranquil and calm,
But day-boats from Sharm now give cause for alarm.

Time to start engines, move on, dive a wall,
Ras Mohammed's the place, deep water and all.
Colourful soft corals, and Anemone City,
Hundreds of Nemos but no Shark's Tale, what a pity.

The current is strong here, a bit of a flow,
To fight it is foolish, so dodge it like so.
Slip behind coral heads, so that shelter is sought,
You can make progress if you give it some thought.

Young Jim wants to leave us, it's a bit of a bore,
He's off to Cairo so we put him ashore.
Khaled's kingpin now, he's number one man.
We head further North to the Straits of Tiran.

Gordon and Thomas, they are not very far.
The scousers remind me of young Ringo Starr.
Woodhouse and Jackson, named after more heroes,
The channel is narrow, it's no place for errors.

The hulks of the Lara and Lulia stand witness,
Poor navigation is a nasty business.
We cruise under water with trumpets and sting rays,
It's easy and relaxing, in so many ways.

Khaled swims by with an unconcerned turtle,
It moves gracefully with him, not wishing to hurtle.
Safe for a moment, orange anthias quiver,
Avoiding that fate redmouth groupers deliver.

My pals have swum on while I snap the gorgonia,
No other divers around, it couldn't be lonelier.
It's so soothing to be in the undersea realm,
I hope that I've captured it all on my film.

The water is clear and conditions are easy,
The sea isn't calm and the weather is breezy.
It might be a bit nippy but it's cheaper in winter,
If I came in the summer I'd be a lot skinter!

Too soon they have gone, seven days in a flash.
We settle our bills. We don't need much cash.
Our bags are packed for a night at Crown Plaza
It's the first time in a week that my face sees a razor.

We're soon in the sky in a 747,
Our diving adventures have been simply heaven.
It's back to old Blighty, the North-west and Brum,
What a wonderful trip, and not a single bad tum!