We thought we'd sneak in and quietly go about our chores for a few days until the horde arrived, but in no time flat we'd found ourselves a vantage point on someone else's boat, and were marvelling about how well "The Village People's" sounded on a piano accordion with lyrics translated to French, and wondering why the letters "YMCA" seemed to have survived in their original language.
Perhaps "E-grek, Emm, Cee, Arr" could have been confused for something sung in "pirate".
Not at all disappointingly by the time the evening ended, which was somewhere near the time that the new day technically had begun, there had been no chores undertaken, and the calendar for the coming days was looking a bit along the lines of "they'll have to wait till after the visitors go."
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