There was a man from Muddlebro' whose problems he lay down
Upon anothers doorstep in a distant stranger's town
But forgetting what he'd come for and in patronising tones
He gave them all his clothes and bread to stop their moans and groans.

'It's not your fault where you were born' – he said all condescending
'We cannot all be made like me with lots of true blue blending'
'But never mind, I'll pass the hat around our gracious nation'
The strangers held their laughter back, remembering their station.

Back home in the Heads of State, the people's memory woke
And yet the yapping didn't stop whoever rose and spoke
But in the fields potatoes flowered and gulls came with high tides
And men came back from cutting wood and gathering by firesides.

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