Let us praise famous men And Attila the Hun Who have sworn to return Britain's glory When a man knew his place And the whole island race Used to flock to the post of old tory Ah those were the days When the hearts were ablaze Inspired by our glorious mission When the princes of Ind Didn't dare to break wind Unless they got Britain's permission Let us praise Maggie Thatcher There's no one can match her At making loud threats against 'shirkers' A term that embraces all union members And 90% of all workers She says that a picket Is not British not cricket Shop stewards are all commie traitors They should line up the lot To be bloody well shot With asians and black trouble makers Wherever there's strife You will find Meg the Knife Working hard for the big corporations With a blade she's a master And noone is faster At carving up kids education When wielding the axe Or imposing attacks Or closing the school she's a winner She persuaded a whole generation to diet By raising the price of school dinners She's cut social services, sold council houses Rejected a limit on prices This cast iron filly Has reognized Chilie While carving us up in thin slices With the cost of health higher You may just expire In which case less bills you'll be needing In the words of Ted Heath If you can't pay for teeth You'll be forced to cut down on your feeding Some say that her diction Is a natural affliction Some say she's a noisy old bat While others will swear Yes, and loudly declare That she's actually Hitler in drag How her backbencher swirls When she flashes her pearls Or cracks a coy joke on the telly Or plays a loyal martyr For president Carter While crawling around on her belly Each Monday Club member Have pledged to dismember All organs of nationalization And chaps of high merit May hope to inherit The spoils from the sack of the nation They're the lords of creation The cream of the Nation Lord Soles and Keith Joseph and others They'll help you discover That all men are brothers But some are more brothers than others And so once again Let us praise famous men Adding chapters to Britain's proud story They may not look bright But they're British and white And to a man - and a woman - they're Tory Though they look mediocre Like shady stock brokers At first sight as harmless as mutton If the nuclear warheads Are sent on their way It's their fingers that'll be on the bu*ton