Let us praise famous men
And Attila the Hun
Who have sworn to return Britain's glory
When a man knew his place
And the whole island race
Used to flock to the post of old tory
Ah those were the days
When the hearts were ablaze
Inspired by our glorious mission
When the princes of Ind
Didn't dare to break wind
Unless they got Britain's permission
Let us praise Maggie Thatcher
There's no one can match her
At making loud threats against 'shirkers'
A term that embraces all union members
And 90% of all workers
She says that a picket
Is not British not cricket
Shop stewards are all commie traitors
They should line up the lot
To be bloody well shot
With asians and black trouble makers
Wherever there's strife
You will find Meg the Knife
Working hard for the big corporations
With a blade she's a master
And noone is faster
At carving up kids education
When wielding the axe
Or imposing attacks
Or closing the school she's a winner
She persuaded a whole generation to diet
By raising the price of school dinners
She's cut social services, sold council houses
Rejected a limit on prices
This cast iron filly
Has reognized Chilie
While carving us up in thin slices
With the cost of health higher
You may just expire
In which case less bills you'll be needing
In the words of Ted Heath
If you can't pay for teeth
You'll be forced to cut down on your feeding
Some say that her diction
Is a natural affliction
Some say she's a noisy old bat
While others will swear
Yes, and loudly declare
That she's actually Hitler in drag
How her backbencher swirls
When she flashes her pearls
Or cracks a coy joke on the telly
Or plays a loyal martyr
For president Carter
While crawling around on her belly
Each Monday Club member
Have pledged to dismember
All organs of nationalization
And chaps of high merit
May hope to inherit
The spoils from the sack of the nation
They're the lords of creation
The cream of the Nation
Lord Soles and Keith Joseph and others
They'll help you discover
That all men are brothers
But some are more brothers than others
And so once again
Let us praise famous men
Adding chapters to Britain's proud story
They may not look bright
But they're British and white
And to a man - and a woman - they're Tory
Though they look mediocre
Like shady stock brokers
At first sight as harmless as mutton
If the nuclear warheads
Are sent on their way
It's their fingers that'll be on the bu*ton