A Voyage To Argentina

The Voyage The big seagull sat on the bow of my rowing boat on my way to Argentina and Rosita, which I never met she had married guitar player- had unfriendly eyes ready to peck my eyes out. I regretted my heroism. I wanted to go to Argentina because of its pampas Beautiful horses and also to be famous for the voyage I was picked up by a merchant ship it was actually going the wrong way docked in Antwerp Free beer for the, would be the hero. I got a job on an old steamer bound for Argentina. Buenos Aires, A City with so many beautiful women it took a long before I got my stead looking for the tree of wisdom. I found it burning in the night the Gauchos were feeling cold and set fire to the tree. What matters is the journey which is a fine sentence to cover for absolute failure.