| 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? |