#6 The Merry Muse

I turn on the TV,
   There is time until the pottage boils,
To see what I can see,
    More namby-pamby multi-wulti-culturalism,
A shame that gone are the ways of the toil of the soil,
   No chords or fourty-two and-a-half parts, singing while they work,
Immigrants make us forget,
Our own good culture loyal.

Encyclopedias say this should not be,
The world wishes culture English for to see,
Our roast is our boast, not foreign-curree,
   Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, dear me.

I turn to sing-a-ling, a merry old tune,
Which globalism has gone and sold away,
No accompaniment, ancient as woad lovely,
FROM NOW ON, that motto like gold is,
Gone be foreign influences as fol-de-ree.