Up for the Shoot

Here we all are in our Rolls-Royces
Fair Isle sweaters and pinstriped voices
We're up for the shoot
Oh, what a hoot
Far more fun than horses

We're spending the weekend with the Gorns-Beyorns
Kicking holes in their immaculate lawns
Not a thought in our head
Save who we can bed
And whether Priscilla performs

Drinking gin, losing sleep
Missing the rabbits but hitting the sheep
Making bloody great weals in the farmer's ploughed fields
And haring around in the jeep

Deborah is hеre with her Labrador
Which sleeps in her bеd, and pees on the floor
It's her first invitation, but my information
Is, she won't be asked any more

Rupert is here, he's something in Coutts
You can tell he's a gent by the way that he shoots
He couldn't hit a wall, but his style says it all
From his hat to his crocodile boots

Here we are, breakfast in our pyjamas
Tiring of holidays in the Bahamas
Initialled slippers, kedgeree or kippers
We're all such gentlemen farmers

Daisy is here from conquering Tibet
The most wonderful girl that one's ever met
Her amazing physique is something unique
But, my God, does she sweat

Here we all are in our Rolls-Royces
Lords and Ladies, and half the Armed Forces
We're up for the shoot
Oh, what a hoot
It's far more fun than horses