once I drove a rolls royce down south
from john o groats to lands end
then to the sciilys I went forth and mulitplied.
and met Harold wilson as he strolled round a bend
he treated me to a glass of Wincarnis
as I wrote him some verse untarnished
oh what a jolly good egg
what shame hes now dead.
some youngsters they mock my rhymes
it must be a sign of the times
for an england long gone I yearn
AND the school matron,with a visage so stern.