I don't normally get the Times, but there was a free one when I bought Private Eye from WH Smiths today - and in a rather over-strained "funny" page about how English Rugby fans are supposed to be switching their allegiance to Wales now that England has been knocked out of the Rugby World Cup, there's a "phonetic version of Land of my Fathers", which might be quite useful.

Here it is - (and here is a you tube rendering with the original words for a singalong, and a translation...)

My hen laid a haddock on top of a tree
Glad farts and centurions throw dogs in the sea
I could stew a hare here, and brandish Don's flan.
Don's ruddy bog's blocked up with sand.
Dad! Dad! Why don't you oil Aunty Glad?
When whores appear on beer bottle pies,
Oh butter the hens as they fly.
Dad! Dad! Why don't you oil Aunty Glad?
When whores appear on beer bottle pies,
Oh butter the hens as they fly.

Once more with feeling!