The Cruise . . . . . . .

The cabin had a balcony, ah - we can flick the fag ends out,
'Sorry sir, this is a no smoking ship,' shit, what's that about,
still, plenty of activities, rich women looking for a husband,
don't need to go ashore, we'll make love before we land.

Free drinks they say, part of the package, what else today?
Must be better than deck quoits, of couse by the pool they say,
we're already brown, don't need a tan, sitting with a daiquiri,
water chutes, sun hats, everyone chatting viewing the sea.

The evening came, sun sinking into the sea, having a beer,
bow tie on, someone breezed by, said: 'Bet you're a queer,'
honestly, on a trip like this, someone should say like nasty,
while I'm watching the sunset, pink and orange a mystery.

Then there was the finale, I'll describe it as much as I'm able,
there had to be a 'snooty,' privileged to sit at the captain's table.