[Instrumental]
				

Poor Mr Malaprope never really had a hope
Sitting in the corner with his raps'n'ale,
He never knew a lot about the things he used to shout about
Sometimes what he said just went beyond the pale.
On science his theory was that, "They're all barking mad".
On politics he argued they're all equally as bad.
Religiously he would observe high days and holidays,
'Divine Intervention' couldn't make him change his ways


Then came Sir Spoutalot, straight out of Camelot,
Tilting at the windmills all along the mile.
No 'paragon of virtue' this was true,
Putting damsels in distress was more his style.
Their passions he would recount in intimate detail,
With odes and songs and oratory to all he would unveil.
This self-styled ballad monger then left us all to ponder,
Why abstinence or reticence couldn't make the heart grow fonder?


Dear Dr Pennywise not slow to realise,
You shouldn't "spoil the vessel for a ha'porth of tar".
Sixpence the poorer like Mr Micawber,
His grand designs just didn't get far.
Aguilar, Guy and Dancer were men he could admire,
But unlike them he had no pile on which he might retire.
In consequence he paid no heed to bills and fines and fees,
And he ended up down 'Queer Street' with 'Lady Poverty'.
				

Awake,
The splendour falls
Won't you wake, come see the citadels of Albion

Heroes come from the playing fields of England
To the towers of strength and legacy

Selling England by the pound
Flogging the wheels off to make it go round
First the factory then the plough(?)
They think it's all over, well is it now?

It's an interval, the substitutes were made
But behind the scenes, the winning moves were played

Save us all from this dewy eyed remembrances
Sixty six and all of that vain glory
Goods they come from the factories out in Indonesia
As goliaths strike, the agony

What use for these trifles these cultural icons - push them aside
Who needs such theater of ???? legends of national pride

Selling England by the pound
Flogging the wheels off to make it go round
First the factory then the plough(?)
They think it's all over, well is it now?

It's an interval, the substitutes were made
But behind the scenes, the winning moves were played

Selling England by the pound
Flogging the wheels off to make it go round
First the factory then the plough(?)
They think it's all over, well is it now?
Toss the coin upon the ground
Either way up we're on the way down
Sacrifice a holy cow
They think it's all over, well is it now?
				

Over the heather the wet wind blows,
I've lice in my tunic and a cold in my nose.

The rain comes pattering out of the sky,
I'm a Wall soldier, I don't know why.

The mist creeps over the hard grey stone,
My girl's in Tungria; I sleep alone.

Aulus goes hanging around her place,
I don't like his manners, I don't like his face.

Piso's a Christian, he worships a fish;
There'd be no kissing if he had his wish.

She gave me a ring but I diced it away;
I want my girl and I want my pay.

When I'm a veteran with only one eye
I shall do nothing but look at the sky.