We are the grey haired army,
Abroad and on the lash again.
Walking sticks and lagers ready,
We wobble off ships and planes.
We’ve got our kids inheritance,
We’ve cashed in our pensions.
We’re getting obscene tattoos,
In places you shouldn’t mention.
Hopping in and out of hotel beds,
Laughing as we trash cruise ships.
Playing naked oily Twister,
Ignoring our dodgy arthritic hips.
Bill has only got one kidney,
Doris has a new glass eye.
But there’s no stopping us,
If some cheap sangria we spy.
We’ll riot as we drink the lot,
Pogo dance all through the night.
Shovel down kebab and chips,
Vomit it up, then have a fight.
Then when the holiday’s over,
We stagger home a little slower.
Our only holiday souvenirs,
Sunburn and hangovers.
I think I want to be a Saga Lout when I retire.