Six men are afloat for a week, on a boat,

And three of them know what they're in for,

Three of them don't, they're the new boys, the scrotes,

The ones that Skip has bought gin for.

 

Now Alastair, Derek and Frank, have some nautical years in the bank

And they now know what they're doing

But Richard and Colin, and Tam (a pathetic replacement for Dan),

Will soon be learning their crewing.

 

They are taking a lead from the skipper,

who says he's sailed well since a nippper.

They watch all his moves, the way that he proves,

there's not a nautical hope for old Slipper.

 

They set sail off round Skye to a place with a guy

Who flutters his lashes at Tamas,

who conceals his arouse at the sight of a blouse

Which he's sure must be worn by a lass

 

From Isle-orifice with sunshine, ah bliss

But onwards past Kyle, our hearts sank

Somethingís wrong, itís not right, we've done the first night

And forgotten the quiet man Frank!

 

So a boat to a train and a walk in the rain

From Plockton Frank steers to Portree

But the boy won't regale with salacious detail

On why he was late to the sea!

 

Tam rises and swims (still pissed on the gins)

And after a night on the dutch beer

Takes courage and zeal and says gieí us that wheel

And shows a remarkable skill at the steer.

 

Nine knots with the blow and we hit Badachro,

Moor up, to the shore, all dead thirsty.

But our mouths all go dry and appetites die

At a beautiful sight .... Oh Kirsty!

 

Pints of good ale (and ootside a reet gale)

But the snug of the inn is so warming

After steaks, prawns and beef (and belts out a reef)

Nav and McPhail get quite boring!

 

The flaccid is shuttled and drunkenness scuttled

As a sobering return is right gusty

In our beds on that night only one thought burned bright

The warm auburn Aura - oh kusty!

 

Then a boring day wee blew

In the sway of remnants of cyclone Katrina

Kirstyís on shore and we're yearniní for more

But alas she's forgotten we've seen her!

 

So from the Gairloch a blast round the rocks

Where the royals would bathe from their yacht

And doon to the Kyle with breakfast roll bile

And a mooring with showers that are hot.

 

Skipperís gins they are slooshed - and soon we're all scooshed

And the blood is starting to thin

McPhail gets all flirty, with a bird, who's quite dirty

A seagull - she was preening for him!

 

Up to the hotel into armchairs we fell

For scallops and more talking bollocks

But Skip makes us flit -to a table to sit

Cus his hip bone's displaced from its rollocks.

 

But he cheers himself up, when two muckle pups

Come bouncing across to serve us

Itís the barmaid called Helen (she must be - those melons!)

She mutters "you sad little perverts"

 

Pervs we are not, says Skip, as he's got

Binoculars trained on lit windaes

From the deck o the boat, four pervy old scrotes

Are watching action wahey!! (but not Findus)

 

Findus is fixing, his tackle, he's mixing

A selection of heavy weight matter, he

Has nicked pots and pans and bottles and cans

And four of the boatís mega batteries

 

The next day he swings his tackle right in

And the boat it has started to heel

The helmsman is sent forward and bent

Double right over the wheel

 

The tackle line snaps and to loud whoops and claps

Findus retreats to his bunk

And hears their laughs and their cackle "there's nae fekkin mackerel"

And now all his feathers have sunk

 

So these blokes of bad manners scream over to Canna

And land at the shore for a girly,

Nav takes a crush for lass with a brush

Which has hair that is ever so curly!

 

So, the end of the week and itís time to seek

A theme for the 05 cruise

Could it be gales and port-bound tales

Or many a night at the booze?

 

Well Dan will return in 06 and he'll learn

That we've rumbled a theme to the cruising

We could be thanking the ministers - or something more sinister?

For Dan itís his secretive musing

 

He's not been on board to bag islands in hoards

He's harboured a secret mission

To have in each port the moorings of sorts

Which will calm all the anchorage frission

 

Through all of the snoring and chat oh so boring

We've noticed a fact thatís so plain

If we've learnt something here itís the Kernohan pier

That greets you again and again!

 

To finish this tale we mustnít now fail

In thanks for the barmaids who've served

Thank you Kirsty and Helen, and Rebecca for selling

Beers to a right bunch of pervs!

 

Richard ĎFindus the Fishermaní Slipper

 

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