Bobbing along in Poetry Jam

Absence from the country and other reasons means I have not been able to board the jar of Poetry Jam of late, though I've been concentrating on yet another little project, so my output has not diminished.
However, the photo of the very lovely Dana Bug (above) in a swimsuit has enticed me to dive in headfirst. Her prompt is to write something about swimming, which is fortuitously one of the few things I can do with a reasonable degree of proficiency. This bit of doggerel relates to a holiday in Majorca six years ago when it seemed everybody on the island decided to visit our pool at the same time.
For much more buoyant responses, check out the Jam here.

Bobbing Along

Every single tourist in Mallorca
Has come down to our complex to get cool.
The weather had been forecast as a corker,
And there’s only room to stand up in the pool.

We’re bobbing up and down in it together,
Sardines would claim that it is very cruel.
At least we’re mostly out the burning weather
But there’s only room to stand up in the pool.

No opportunity to practise swimming,
I think it’s horizontal, as a rule.
But Lord above, it’s well and truly brimmin’,
And there’s only room to stand up in the pool.

The rest of this whole island is deserted
With weather that would make a camel drool,
The lifeguards at their stations were alerted,
But all of them are standing in our pool.

One chappie’s poolside, standing in a fever,
Naturally he feels a silly fool,
We tried to wedge him in with someone’s lever,
But there’s no more room to stand up in our pool.