|
I took a sudden notion |
|
To go down to the ocean |
|
I'd got my sun-tan lotion |
|
My flippers and my mask |
|
In proper distribution |
|
Of fully-formed ablutions |
|
Formed an ocean of pollution |
|
In which I daredn't bask |
|
Some turds were teeny-tiny |
|
And some were big and shiny |
|
But they all fucked up the briney |
|
In which I dipped my toe |
|
If you go swimming in the shite-us |
|
You'll get worse than dermititis |
|
From the sea of grey detritus |
|
Where the sewage ebbs and flows |
|
There's no respite |
|
From the cess-pit |
|
No shelter from the pong |
|
The poor old ocean |
|
Is full of motions |
|
Where the hell did we go wrong? |
|
Like a lamb off to the slaughter |
|
Pored myself a glass of water |
|
I failed to spot I'd caught a |
|
Little creature in my cup |
|
I was well and truly bolleaux-ed |
|
From the fires of hell that followed |
|
T'was the cup of life I'd swallowed |
|
And it almost did me up |
|
Something coming |
|
Through the plumbing |
|
That should not be there at all |
|
The glass is brimming |
|
And things are swimming |
|
And quite frankly, I'm appalled |
|
I was a very hungry fella |
|
I defrosted my paella |
|
Came down with Salmonella |
|
Three weeks intensive care |
|
They failed to send technicians in |
|
To check the air-conditioning |
|
Which was unfortunately transmissioning |
|
A case of Legionnaires |
|
There's a malaise |
|
In the mayonnaise |
|
There's a poo-poo in the prawn |
|
Where we missed them |
|
In the system |
|
Little germs are being born |
|
There's no respite |
|
From the cess-pit |
|
There's no shelter from the pong |
|
Where the hell did we go wrong? |
