Here's to the State of Mr. Poodle

Here's to the State of Mr. Poodle

Here's to the State of Mr. Poodle

Here's to the state of Mr. Poodle
where unemployment's falling as the prison numbers rise
and your job is going overseas but the army's door is wide
and he calls it "meritocracy" but wears an old-school tie
and the working class is drowning in a politician's lies

Oh, here's to the land you've torn out of the heart of
Mr. Poodle find yourself another country to be part of

And here's to the schools of Mr. Poodle
Where six year olds are tested if they can read and write
examined like a product upon a factory line
Yet reading is a leisure and tests a waste of time
unless you need statistics for a blatant philistine

Oh, here's to the land you've torn out of the heart of
Mr. Poodle, find yourself another country to be part of

And here's to the laws of Mr. Poodle
where old men stand in judgment of teenagers in care
despite the former's ignorance of the latter's deep despair
and the victim's getting punished while the criminal's elsewhere
For it's the king and not the pawns who makes a judgment fair

Oh, here's to the land you've torn out of the heart of
Mr. Poodle, find yourself another country to be part of

And here's to the churches of Mr. Poodle
where the cross once made of silver now is caked with rust
and the Sunday morning sermon just hides the father's lust
and the fallen face of Jesus has settled in the dust
and heaven only knows in which god Mr. Poodle trusts

Oh, here's to the land you've torn out of the heart of
Mr. Poodle, find yourself another country to be part of

And here's to the government of Mr. Poodle (and Mr. Rumsfeld)
where the leader is the ruler and ought to wear a crown
directing all the policies right from the top straight down
yet I can't help but wonder from which voice comes the sound
when the speeches of our leader are the ravings of a clown

Oh, here's to the land you've torn out of the heart of
Mr. Poodle, find yourself another country to be part of