Touring in Flanders
The first pint of Boddies in the old Lane Ends
downed in style.
Feel all my troubles just float away. I suspect that I’ll,
enjoy this Belgian Holiday, a prospect to beguile
Oooh, See all the cases and the old kit bags stacked in a pile
We’ve been supping on the coach to Hull, it’s miles, miles miles
Then on the ferry we all got full, a real night on the tiles
And for breakfast we had gin, how bloody infantile
‘Cos now I’ve got to play a bloody game and I feel vile
Push in a gumshield that tastes of stale beer and force a smile
Pull elastic bandages around the knees, oh what a bloody trial
Must I break into a run, is it all worthwhile
Oh, they’ve dropped another one between the posts and I feel vile.