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 t***, he's getting on my t***,
He hasn't s***ged me for a week coz he's always too p*****,
But he won't know what the f*** 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.
©1989 The Macc Lads
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 t***, he's getting on my t***,
He hasn't s***ged me for a week coz he's always too p*****,
But he won't know what the f*** 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.
©1989 The Macc Lads