the little bar in majorca

people dancing inside building
Photo by Maurício Mascaro on

The DJ comes on at ten

As seventeen year old girls totter in

On six inch heels, in boob tubes

And skirts that parents would shake their heads at.

He only plays songs that get them dancing

While clutching their Bacardi Breezers

And singing their hearts out,

Eyeing up boys who will buy them shots

And share fishbowls of something blue.

The barman throws bottles of vodka,

Winking at the boys as they move in for the kiss,

They don’t know each other’s names

But there’s a chance they’ll end up in his bed,

With her sneaking out with those heels in her hand,

The sun rising hot, as she walks back in shame

But they’ll all be back the following night

Picking up others after too many Schnapps.

the holiday rep

palm trees under a blue sky
Photo by Rachel Claire on

They come to airports with their clipboards

Clutched in arms, golden brown,

A healthy life under the Majorcan sun.

Until that sun begins to sink

And stars come out with fishbowl drinks,

Girls in skimpy clothes and boys

Out to score in noisy clubs.

The reps are at the centre of it all,

Leading guests onto the battle field,

The strip that never sleeps at night,

With crazy Brits just out for fun

That very often ends in tears

Or at least a greasy chicken meal.