I'll not endorse this model degradation
These are things the world should never see
Plays about adultery
And women's liberation
A three act play about the last apostle
And the plot twist that I almost missed
Jesus as a communist
The afrontery's colossal
Inflammatory dribble
Offensive to the core
I can't get past the title of
Tis pity she's a who*e
God Gibson is so dark so melancholy
Those Swedish writers are a gloomy lot
This one's got a vile plot
It's anything but jolly
In fact sir Mr. Ipsen comes from Norway
Everybody makes the same mistake
What earthly difference does that make
I cannot have it your way
Scandinavia is to blame
Those endless nights
Woe betide the writer
Who can't see what he writes
I'm the guardian of the establishment
And the morals of the nation
I stand for common decency
The keeper of the flame
With my guiding hand
Art will not descend
Into scarlet deprivation
While I remain Lord Chamberlain
I'll protect England's good name
Tommy, you don't look a day older
Let's see how I look when you leave
I've brought you a lovely Margot and some fromage
Bribery will get you nowhere
Theatrical nudity is out of the question
We are not proposing some sordid little strip tease Tommy
We intend to celebrate the female form
The British working cla** won't pay one in six
To kneel at the feet of Venus
They'll be queueing for a glimpse of bare bosom
There are many things on which I will not waiver
Prince Hamlet in a leather thong
A dollhouse set in old Hong Kong
With a masochistic flavor
I sense I must protect the working cla**es
Look a left wing Charlie's aunt
With a h*mos**ual slant
Oh I wish I had my gla**es
There's much I will allow
I am no prude
But never list some ladies cavorting in the nude
But a sense of shroud in courage innovation
I live in fear of opening nights
I've never been forgiven for that Jewish wuthering heights
You're asking much too much
This isn't fair
Bums and b**bs are bouncing to the London derriere
Oh Tommy dear
We're of a single mind
We're talking grace and beauty
Not a bump and grind
But is it art
Well it's not musical
There's nothing rude about your nude
That's in a painting
Hanging on a wall
Indeed sir our museums are stuffed to the rafters with naked women
Not wobbling about waving jazz hands
Then neither shall our girls
Their modesty will be unveiled in a series of tableau
Tableau
They will never move
I've never heard that before
It's worth debating
No hint of any motion
Every inch completely static
Not a single thing pulsating
Not a single thing
The women's state will be like a museum
Think of Rubens and Renoir up there
Those two are my favorite pair
Please do try the chamomile
It's such a big decision
I can't be rushed
So don't be disappointed
If all your hopes are crushed
You're the guardian of the establishment
And the morals of the nation
While you remain Lord Chamberlain
Things will always stay the same
Even if the enterprise were still artistic
There still remains the question of
Forgive me
The underneath
The underneath
That which lies beneath
The female pudendum
I don't speak Latin Tommy
If you mean the p**y say so
May we refer to it as the middlins
Certainly dear the middlins will not be a problem
We shall use very subtle lighting and a conscientious hairdresser
Oh Tommy dear
This will be so much fun
I guarantee our little show won't worry anyone
I have your word
I'll say it once again
They'll never move
They will not move they'll have to breathe
But only now and then
You're the guardian of the establishment
And the morals of the nation
I stand for common decency
The keeper of the flame
The admiral who leads a godless crew
From scarlet degradation
Whilst you remain Lord Chamberlain
This license needs your name
Of course our shows will require your personal approval
I shall put you in the royal books
Indeed
Then providing nothing's moving
I will approve
But I'll close you down at once if any titties move
I'll close you down at once if any titties move