We aren’t made for cool Britannia; we leave boot marks on the floor. We don’t walk like Peter Mandelson or talk like Jack Straw. Call us forces of conservatism, if it suits your turn But we’re off like some world fire brigade when the flash-points start to burn. Yes it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that that, an’ spend less on defence, But who walks the streets of Basra when the air is getting tense? When the air is getting tense, boys, from Kabul to Kosovo Who’ll say goodbye to wife and kids, and shoulder pack and go? The Queen, she’s sat in Windsor now for 50 years or more. She’ll see this government depart like the other one before. And Blair & Bush & Chirac make their plans to no avail But who remains to serve the Crown when politicians fail? O it’s Tommy change your values – now diversity’s the game; But when Christmas leave is cancelled, then whose tyrants are to blame? There’s tyrants in the mountains, boys, and tyrants in the sands, So farewell to wives and risk your lives for them in foreign lands.
Posted on: Tue, 11 Nov 2014 16:34:14 +0000
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