to the state of Mr Poodle
Where unemployment's falling
as the prison numbers rise
And your job is going overseas
but the army's door is wide
And he calls it meritocracy,
but wears an old -school tie
And the working class is drowning
Oh, here's to the land you've torn out
And here's to the schools
are tested if they can read and write,
examined like a product upon
and tests a waste of time,
unless you need statistics
for a blatant philistine.
you've torn out the heart of.
And here's to the loss of Mr. Poodle.
Where old men stand in judgement
Despite the former's ignorance
of the latter's deep despair
And the victims getting punished
while the criminals elsewhere
For it's the king and not
who makes a judgement fair
Oh, here's to the land you've
torn out the heart of Mr Poodle,
And here's to the churches
Where the cross once made of silver
And the Sunday morning sermon
just hides the Father's lust
And the fallen face of Jesus
And heaven only knows in which
Oh here's to the land you've torn out
And here's to the government
of Mr Poodle and Mr Rumsfeld
Where the leader is the ruler
and ought to wear a crown
Directing all the policies
right from the top straight down
Yet I can't help but wonder
from which voice comes the sound
When the speeches of our leader
are the ravings of a clown
Oh, here's to the land you've
torn out the heart of Mr Poodle,
find yourself another country to be part of
4.8
