Sitting on the
bog in foreign parts, looking round for anything to wipe my arse,
There's a second hand curry splattered round the rim,
And red and black scrapings from an Arab's foreskin
You can't drink the water, you've got to boil it
All the women smell of Egyptian toilets
There's a shitty clogged-up copper pipe sticking out of the bowl
Hosepipes, flies, foreign smells, no fucking toilet roll.
It was a cheap
package holiday with a guarantee-
You'll pass nothing solid 'til you're back in Macclesfield
They warned me not to eat the food, and everything's in litres
But they didn't say a word about a million sausage eaters.
Squareheads in the pubs, Jerries on the streets,
Krauts in the bars, Erics on the beach
Got to do something fast to clear away this shit,
I'll have to wipe my bottom on a passing Fritz.
Shut your fucking trap
Take your Merc and piss off back with your holiday schnapps (snaps)
Oi! Adolf! Stop pushing in the queue,
Try pushing into Poland and we'll beat you black and blue
I'm an Englishman
abroad and my ringpiece is a mess
My foot's wedged against the door to keep out the S.S.
This foreign khasi stinks of daygo turds that missed the bowl
There's Huns outside, slapping thighs and wearing lederhosen.
I hope these German bastards have the runs as bad as me,
I'll fight them on the beaches to defend my lavatory
I'm shouting: 'Fuck off, Herman, who won the fucking war?'
The fuckers pushed their gaspipes under my bog door.
Nineteen sixty six!
I provide the gas in here, fuck off back to Auschwitz
Oi! Adolf! Fuck off back to Belsen
I'm not a yid, I'm on the bog, annex something else, son.
Oi! Adolf! You talking to me?
How come all you krauts can speak German fluently?
Oi! Adolf! Nineteen forty five!
Don't put that accent on for me, speak English or die.