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 s***ty clogged-up copper pipe sticking out of the bowl,
Hosepipes, flies, foreign smells, no f***ing toilet roll.
It was a cheap package holiday with a guarantee-
You'll pa** 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 expect to find a million sausage eaters,
Squareheads in the pubs, Erics on the streets,
Krauts in the bars, Jerries on the beach,
Got to do something fast to clear away this s***,
I'll have to wipe my bottom on a pa**ing Fritz.
Oi! Adolf! Shut your f***ing 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 ba*tards have the runs as bad as me,
I'll fight them on the beaches to defend my lavatory,
I'm shouting: 'f*** off, Herman, who won the f***ing war?'
The f***ers pushed their gaspipes under my bog door.
Oi! Adolf! Nineteen sixty six!,
I provide the gas in here, f*** off back to Auschwitz,
Oi! Adolf! f*** 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.
Deutschland Deutschland,
F***ing ba*tards!