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The Majorca Song (Just-About-Broadcastable-Version)
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Listen to Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Mostly Blue by Ivor Biggun
ALBUMSomething Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Mostly BlueIvor Biggun

Top Songs By Ivor Biggun

Credits

AUSFÜHRENDE KÜNSTLER:INNEN
Ivor Biggun
Ivor Biggun
Künstler:in
Robert George Cox
Robert George Cox
Leadgesang
Phil Drury
Phil Drury
E-Gitarre
Peter Terry
Peter Terry
Tasteninstrumente
Michael Phillips
Michael Phillips
E-Bassgitarre
Anthony Barker
Anthony Barker
Mundharmonika
Nigel Appleton
Nigel Appleton
Schlagzeug
Joanna Monro
Joanna Monro
Begleitgesang
KOMPOSITION UND LIEDTEXT
Ivor Biggun
Ivor Biggun
Komponist:in
PRODUKTION UND TECHNIK
Neil Wilkes
Neil Wilkes
Mastering-Ingenieur:in

Lyrics

Uno, dos, tres Suzy Quatro
Every year when summer is here
I save up m' money and fly
To the land of the sun for some vino and fun
Where the girls have a twinkle in their eye
Buenos knockers por favor
As I sniff up the breezes
There's a whiff in the air
Of ambro solaire
And Julio Inglesias
All day I eat risotto and pose around on the beach
At night I'm multo blotto and incapable of speech
But I'm going back to Majorca
To the prettiest girl that I've found
She nearly went crackers
When I shook my maraccas
And waved my sombrero around
She was topless, I was legless, we boogied the moonlight away
Oh that corker I met in Majorca
Oh blimey, O' Reilly, olé
I said that corker I met in Majorca
Oh blimey, O' Reilly, olé
Olé, olé, olé, olé, olé, olé
Olé, oh lay me down quick
Iy iy, iy iy, iy iy, iy iy
I think I'm gonna be sick
I don't go swimmin' I just look at the women
As I stroll down by the ocean
They don't wear vests upon their chests
They just wear sun-tan lotion
Buenos knockers por favor
Una paloma blanca
I go to Spain, get out of my brain
And act like a... silly sausage
I wear reflective sunglasses and peep at the girls lots and lots
But I never drink the water in case I get the trots
So I'm going back to Majorca
For some sangria, sunshine and sin
There's lots of how's-yer-father down on the Costa Brava
And they blame it on jet-lag and gin
She was topless, I was legless, we boogied the moonlight away
Oh that corker I met in Majorca
Oh blimey, O' Reilly, olé
I said that corker I met in Majorca
Oh blimey, O' Reilly, olé
But when I get back to Gatwick
With me duty free and air sickness pills
I'll dream of that sweet senorita
Whose kisses were sweeter than la dolce vita
'Cause she thought I was Adrian Mills
Written by: Ivor Biggun

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