We're off on holiday
to Marbella,
We're going to get laid by some greasy fellahs.
We want some lump that's going to plate us
And we're going to get under some Italian waiters.
Dragged this
daygo back to the hotel,
He's got a nice body, but he didn't half smell,
He was kicking and squealing, but I wasn't proud, I said:
'Come on, spic, get a hard on, now!'
Dance round
your handbags.
My boyfriend's
a twat, he's getting on my tits,
He hasn't shagged me for a week coz he's always too pissed,
But he won't know what the fuck to do when he sees my 'I love
Jose' tattoo.
He can do as he pleases, but he's getting my diseases,
I waxed my knicker line and he called me a slag.
He's getting no nookie when I get back.
He's on the couch and I'm on the rag.
Dance round
your handbags.
'Julie? Are
you coming to the bogs?
Them ones by the bar tried to give us a snog,
I can tell by the bulge in their trousers
That they're hung like horses and not like mouses.'
Dance round
your handbags.
