| When I get back to Blighty
|
| I’m gonna kiss that shore
|
| Cause the further that I sail from thee
|
| I only love thee more
|
| When I get back to Blighty
|
| I may actually love you less
|
| Cause you may be, cause you may be pointing
|
| A little too far west
|
| Bus driver ain’t smokin'
|
| Or swiggin' from black can
|
| But whilst he was texting
|
| He nearly killed a man
|
| The bus queue all Twittered
|
| About the near miss
|
| And the rag 'n' bone man’s wearing
|
| High-vis
|
| And the rag 'n' bone man’s wearing
|
| High-vis
|
| See, the spirit of old Blighty
|
| Ain’t making deals on phone
|
| It’s drinking in a backstreet pub
|
| Till 12 midnight alone
|
| The real Clint Eastwood
|
| The real Lee Van Cleef
|
| Ended up in a bar in Hull
|
| Minus all of their teeth
|
| When I get back to Blighty
|
| I’ll be sure to kiss that coast
|
| Cause of all the rotten places
|
| I miss this rot the most
|
| When I get back to Blighty
|
| I won’t salute your queen
|
| I’ll salute the real people
|
| The history they’ve seen
|
| The phone ain’t working
|
| And the bus shelter’s smashed
|
| And all the 'Help for Harry’s
|
| Are bleeding for your cash
|
| Now the shock and awe
|
| Replaced pie and mash
|
| This country is out on the lash
|
| This country is out on the lash
|
| It’s 11 a. |
| m
|
| It’s blue upon blue in the sky
|
| But everyone around agrees
|
| Oh, Phil Collins, Phil Collins must die
|
| A white T-shirt and faded jeans
|
| Just, just an ordinary guy
|
| But prisoner to his tax returns
|
| Oh, Phil Collins, Phil Collins must die
|
| Oh, he must die
|
| Oh yeah
|
| Ooh woah woah, woah
|
| He must die
|
| Ooh yeah
|
| Phil Collins must die
|
| He must die
|
| Oh yeah
|
| Woah woah, woah
|
| Yeah, die
|
| Ooh ooh woah, woah |