We're proud to say in every way
we're ordinary folk
But please observe
we still preserve our sturdy
hearts of oak
Although as servants of the state
we may have been coerced
As we've been told to celebrate
we'll celebrate or burst
Though while we brag our
shoulders
sag beneath a heavy yoke
We all get terribly heated
if it's treated as a joke
So, don't make fun of the festival,
don't make fun of the fair.
We downtrodden British
must learn to be skittish
and give an impression of
devil -may -care
to the wide, wide world.
We'll sing God for Harry,
an d if it turns out all right,
Knight Gerald Barry.
Clear the national decks, my lads,
every one of us counts.
Grab the travellers' cheques, my lads,
and pray that none of them bounce.
Face the future and his maid,
pray for further martial aid.
Have the toast from Cavalcade
A drastically rewritten
Peace and Dignity we may lack
But wave a jolly Trades Union Jack
Hooray for the Festival
of Britain
We've never been exactly keen
On showing off or swank
But as they say that gay display
Means money in the bank
We'll make the dreadful Welkin ring
From Penge to John O 'Groats
and cheer and shout and
laugh and sing.
Before we cut our throats,
we know we're caught,
but must support this patriotic prank.
And though we'd rather
have shot ourselves,
we've got ourselves to thank.
So, don't make fun of the festival,
don't make fun of the fair.
We must pull together in
spite of the weather
that dampens our spirits
and straightens our hair.
Let the people sing,
even though they shiver.
Roses red and noses mauve.
Over the river,
though the area's fairly small,
climb Discovery's Dome.
Take a snooze in the concert hall,
at least it's warmer than home.
Blow your trumpets,
roll your drums,
cross your fingers,
hold your thumbs.
Even if nobody comes,
don't be conscience -s mitten.
If no overseas trade appears,
we'll have to work for a
thousand years
to pay for the Festival
of Greater.
Don't make fun of the festival,
don't make fun of the fair.
We must have a look at
the cookery book
to prevent us from spreading
alarm and despair.
can serve whale steaks
when the weather's hotter
and in place of entrecotes.
What's wrong with Otter?
Greet the gala with fervence, boys.
Learn to dance in the dark.
Build the Sunday observance, boys.
A shrine in Battersea Park.
Prance about in funny hats.
Show the foreign diplomats
that our proletariat's milder than a kitten.
We believe in the right to strike,
but no, we bloody well got to like
our own darling festival.
We pray for the festival,
we'll pay for the festival of Britain.