I have The Great British Disease –
I plug my ears and pull down the blinds.
Playing “Follow Our Leader” time after time,
For I’m wealthier now than many friends of mine.
I am The Ghost of Britain Past –
Can you afford me for my fee is high.
My memory is short but my tolerance is not,
And when the voting starts my thinking goes to pot.
Is this the only way, is this the only way forward?
The thing I miss in a politician’s kiss is the lump in the throat
And the warmth that goes with it.
The future’s rosy anyway –
I know! I wipe mine with The Sun and The Times.
May the Good Shares protect Our City rejects
When they’re made 65 before they’re 40!
Is this the only way, is this the only way forward?
The thing I miss most in this land of honeyed-bliss is … a nod and a smile.
All I ask is this:
A home to be proud of and a shirt that fits.
The sun is shining on this Pleasant Land.
We could laugh and say it was but a sham
For if it were not for The Peasant Man
My head would be purple.
LAST VERSE ALTERNATIVE VERSION:
The sun is shining on this Peasant Land.
We could laugh and claim our turn at the helm,
For if it were not for The Pease-Pudding Man
Our heads would be infertile.
“Kids shouldn’t have to grow up in soot ‘n’ muck – it isn’t reight.
What can they hope for? What can they look forrad to?
