In a dull old place a dead old face

Reads the regional news

Tells you it'd be better

If it weren't for the weather

And the Pakis and the Jews

 

You're bored to tears with your rent arrears

And general lack of money

Though when you asked for a job

Some greasy old slob

Said there's no work round here sonny

 

Well you take a drag at a badly rolled fag

And try to fall asleep

'Cause there's nothing on the TV

That don't make you feel queasy

And going out just makes you weep

 

You met with a ghost on the Devonshire Coast

Told you he'd served in the war

Then asked for some change

Just to stave off the mange

As he drifted away from the shore

 

You loved Meg McGhee who was so young and free

But how could you begin to tell her

Now she wishes she was dead

As she slices up the bread

For her horrible kids and fella

 

Now its terribly bland in the green and pleasant land

As you ladle out the gruel

You're jobless, faceless, hopeless

There is no light or solace

Been sucked into England's cesspool