| Dads gone down the dog track, Engels' laying cables
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| Brothers with his student friends plotting in the stables
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| They’re preparing for power and how to win
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| I’m covered in Solaire and preparing to swim
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| «Old Iron! |
| Old Iron!" — I heard the bobby shout
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| As he brought his friendly truncheon down with
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| with a God Almighty clout.
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| Mothers playing bingo, she’s hoping for a big win
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| She buys the daily papers to see how 10% live
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| My cousins' greatest wish, is to one day buy a farm
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| And turn it into a health club with top people charm
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| «Any evening, any day" — I’m singing to myself
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| I’ll pack up all my clothes and dough and piss off somewhere else.
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| My ol' man was a dust person until he got the shove
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| Now the iron heel he talked about is backed by the iron glove
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| Brothers bought new glasses, shaped like Leon Trotsky’s
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| They look very nice on the mantlepiece, next to the Royal family
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| I’m laying back with the radio on, in time to hear the Archer’s
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| An everyday tale of country folk mixed up in prostitution.
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| Like all good stories with a happy end, which I’ll now give to you
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| Our cousins wish was granted and so his dream came true
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| His gas shares doubled, while his telecoms soared
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| Til he had enough money, to chair his own board
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| And thank you Margaret Thatcher, «may you never come to harm»
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| He now serves cocktails and lettuce at a Top Peoples Health Club Farm. |