Death to the man more Northern than I am
The tropics will own this table
Peace-loving means unable

Why be glad of that?
Let's get rid of this
Cut the continent loose

Spies like us should just drift

Death to the man more Northern than I am

The crotchety scud at my table
Dogs fill up the stable
Where horses were supposed to go

Why have that?
Let's finish this
Kiss the country goodbye

Spies like us should just drift

My aim is not to bark or bunt

In England they call everyone cunt