How about this from the pen of John Wrightson.

Some of the lyrics ain't quite right as he sings it a bit fast and in a northeast accent but it is mostly verbatim

W. O. M. D.

Chorus

Well we rattled our sabres and polished our guns. The year was 2003.
We searched and we looked and found everything but. W O M D
We found whisky and water, brandy and wine Coffee and Indian tea.
Domestos and duck was the nearest we got. To W O M D


We dug up the desert and sifted the sand Cities were combed as well as the land
Found plenty of oil, donkeys and cats, Uniforms with fez type hats
Camels and goats and cows and sheep, piles of **** in every street.
We turned every stone, opened all doors, but couldn't find what we came here for.


We scoured the country still looking for clues the roads were littered with sandals and shoes.
We saw many locals go wandering past, shaking their heads when questions were asked
(Terry white towels and dirty rush macs???) we even found Shergar settled out back
Saw busses and lorries and taxis on hire but none of them carrying what we require.

Just lookin about was making us blind, the haystack needle was easier to find.
We've checked every corner and nothings been missed, I'm starting to think it doesn't exist.
We've covered the mountains, caves and holes, our eye in the sky is mission control.
No signs of W O M D, they must have buried it out at sea.

We rattled our sabres and polished our guns. The year was 2003.
We searched and we looked and found everything but. W O M D
All the whisky and water, brandy and wine Coffee and Indian tea.
We gave it all back to the land that we racked. For W O M D

Chris