If England was what England seems, An not the England of our dreams, But only putty, brass, an' paint, 'Ow quick we'd chuck 'er! But she ain't!
Yes, making mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep... For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that an' Chuck him out, the brute! But it's Saviour of his country, when the guns begins to shoot!
For it's "guns this" and "guns that," and "chuck 'em out, the brutes," But they're the "Savior of our loved ones" when the thugs begin to loot.
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