I grew up in old Grantham town
The daughter of a man,
Who had no claim to fame, renown,
He drove a grocer’s van.
But when I was a little girl
He sat me on his knee,
Said: “O daughter, divine,
One day, child of mine,
Prime Minister you’ll be”.
I laughed at what my Daddy said,
His dream would not come true;
I wanted only to be wed
And raise myself a brood.
I married me a millionaire,
A kind and simple man,
And, before very long,
I was preaching the song
Of the Tories through the land.
I had a daughter, Carol T,
I had a son called Merk,
My daughter’s lovely, just like me,
Merk’s like his Dad, a berk.
I worked my way up through the ranks,
Into the Cabinet,
And, I got rid of Heath,
Kicked him in the teeth,
He’s too damn bleedin’ wet.
I led the Party in the polls
To Tory victory;
As long as Denis drives a Rolls,
Our enterprise is free.
Goodbye to socialist decay,
Goodbye to National Health,
And, a hard day’s work
For a fair day’s pay
For privilege and wealth.
I sit behind my office desk
At Downing Number Ten,
Rise with the lark, don’t pause for rest
But every now and then.
It takes a lot of donkey work
To do the job I do,
But, I don’t have a care
For hard work, no fear,
I do it all for you.
I’m patriotic through and through,
Proud of our sovereign state,
I sank the Argies just for you,
Now Britain’s truly great.
A pity ’bout Rhodes-i-a,
For turning black and red,
But, we live and we learn,
And our nation won’t burn
As long as I’m at its head.
I can’t do much about the bombs
Thrown by the IRA,
But soldiers marching to their tombs
Is not much price to pay
For keeping law and order on
The Ulster streets of fear,
And, it’s my delight
On a moonlit night
To rule the land from here.
Unfortunately, times are hard,
No money’s in the bank,
The national debt is rising fast,
But no one gives a wank.
So we must all make sacrifice,
Especially the poor,
So, we’ll sell off the oil,
Our industry spoil,
To raise a little more.
We sold the Sealink off as well,
And British Telecom,
We’ve made our Tory profits swell,
Our shares are worth a bomb.
Next thing, we’ll deal with welfare cheats,
Then back will come the rope,
With me in the Chair,
You villains beware:
The lady’s no soft soap.
I do it all for you, dear folk,
I do it all for you,
We all of us must bear the yoke
Until the Sun shines through.
So pay your taxes eagerly,
Your VAT, your extra rent,
And, stand up and be proud,
And sing it aloud:
Britannia rules, amen!
I won the Gen’ Election twice,
I’ll win it yet again,
For Kinnock isn’t very nice,
And nor is Wedgie Benn.
The SDP has no policy –
You’re stuck with me, my dear,
And, it’s my delight
On a moonlit night
To rule a full ten year.
I do it all for you, dear folk,
I do it all for you,
We all of us must bear the yoke
Until the Sun shines through.
So pay your taxes eagerly,
Your VAT, your extra rent,
And, stand up and be proud,
And sing it aloud:
Britannia rules, amen!
Stand up and be proud,
And sing it aloud:
Britannia rules, amen!
Click here for explanation.
Back To Poetry Index