My day is going fine
But my holiday is shite
I should be on the beach
With seagulls in full flight
But coronavirus it said 'no!'
You wont be lying in the sun
There's only thirty on the trip
And you're number thirty-one
Now this caused a bit of a problem
Between my boyfriend and me
Because on the list of passengers
He was number twenty-three
Surely he wont go without me
I thought inside my head
Well let me tell you people
The age of chivalry is dead
A knight in shining armour
He most certainly was not
Cos home he went. packed his case
And without me, buggered off
After calling him some unprintable names
I wondered what I should do
So for something to end the silence
I turned on the evening news
New virus restrictions were announced
By morning theyd all be in place
No mingling with more than six people
Masks permanently on your face
Don't sit there, cant touch that
Meet with seven, there'll be fines
Take temperature, wash hands
And don't forget - Sanitize!
No singing, music or dancing
No entertainment at all
It sounded like there'd be more fun
Watching paint dry on a wall
Then a smile crossed my face
As I opened a can of his beer
No face masks needed at my bar
No virus here to fear
I'm much safer sat on my own
Than chancing a virus ridden crowd
So I opened his bottle of whisky
And turned the music up loud
Now Im singing along to Bailamos
And dancing the night away
Russ Abbott's been here twenty times
For an All Night Holiday
Club Tropicana Ive drunk there
Having Sex on the Beach
Ive laughed and laughed to the Chicken Song
Til my cares are out of reach
I realise then my holiday
Isnt so shite after all
I might not be in a hotel but
I have freedom within my walls
The boyfriend rang, he's not happy
He wishes he hadn't gone tonight
Hotel has rules like North Korea
All in all, his holiday's shite!
