By popular demand, the full lyrics:

Packets of butter and cheeses and hams
All should be purchased in pounds and not grams
And as for kilometres, I've often thought
They'd like to be miles, but they're too bloody short.

Chorus:
Three pounds of pumpkin, two inches of rain,
A gallon of beer and a bushel of grain,
A six furlong race round the old Randwick track:
Bring the Imperial measurements back.

All cricket pitches should measure a chain;
Metric conversion is simply insane:
Give back our pint, fluid ounces and quarts!
Metrics are nothing but fly spots and noughts.

Chorus

Kick the conversion board hard in the pants;
Take up a collection and send them to France.
Hands off that hundredweight! don't touch that ton!
Who damn well asked them to do what they've done?

Chorus

They foisted it on us in usual style,
We gave them an inch and they've taken a mile.
Milli-milli-milli-metres: now that's a French farce
And hectares especially are a pain in the arse.

Chorus

This bloke at the gas company weighed fifteen stone,
Six foot of manhood, all muscle and bone.
Fate sent a metre down onto his head,
"Murdered by metrics!" the coroner said.

Chorus

The tune, as I mentioned earlier, is Dreary Black Hills, which is easy accessed on the net. Nigel, I also had "My Favorite Things" running through my head as I read the lyrics.