| The butcher, the barber, the undertaker
|
| Our land is girt by sea
|
| The looker, the quaker, the cocktail shaker
|
| Something young and free
|
| And for the miner, refiner, the web designer
|
| Dance on golden soil
|
| For the blessed the beach
|
| The pattern they preach
|
| Wealth and something toil
|
| Advance, advance, advance
|
| The doctor, the nun, the bigger the gun
|
| All in history’s page
|
| The tidal waves have turned for the boats on the run
|
| And for the average wage
|
| You hear the planes not the birds
|
| The tune or the words
|
| You said I said I don’t care
|
| I’ll sing for you, I’ll dance it too
|
| Advance, advance, advance
|
| The sailor, the whaler, the Norman Mailer
|
| Don’t belong in town
|
| Your mother, you failed her, you tail regale her
|
| Let the bastards drown
|
| Only the President, the Queen, burn the greens
|
| Burn them till they’re brown
|
| A lightning bolt, a pillar of salt
|
| Sinks without a sound
|
| Advance, advance, advance
|
| Advance, I’ll dance, advance
|
| Advance, I’ll dance, advance
|
| Advance, advance, advance |