We’re off to the “Costa fortune” for two weeks in the sun,
Where the beer tastes like water and the bacon, it’s under-done.
It’s a fortnight on the blue sunbeds, all worn, sunk and faded,
But if you’re quick, a brolly, to keep you cool and shaded.
And don’t forget the suncream to keep your skin well fed,
’Cos if you don’t you will burn and end up red instead.
So if you like the night-life and still on walkabout,
You can do your best and beat the rest, and put the towels out.
Then all of a sudden it’s over and a terrible thought comes to mind,
I’ll soon be back working; it’s back to the grind.
Those warm sunny days on your blue faded bed,
Dreaming of cruising the Caribbean instead.