There was a man from Muddlebro' whose problems he lay down Upon anothers doorstep in a distant stranger's town But forgetting what he'd come for and in patronising tones He gave them all his clothes and bread to stop their moans and groans. 'It's not your fault where you were born' – he said all condescending 'We cannot all be made like me with lots of true blue blending' 'But never mind, I'll pass the hat around our gracious nation' The strangers held their laughter back, remembering their station. Back home in the Heads of State, the people's memory woke And yet the yapping didn't stop whoever rose and spoke But in the fields potatoes flowered and gulls came with high tides And men came back from cutting wood and gathering by firesides.