They're out of sorts in Sunderland
And terribly cross in Kent
They're dull in Hull
And the Isle of Mull
Is seething with discontent
They're nervous in northumberland
And Devon is down the drain
They're filled with wrath on Firth of Forth
And sullen on Salisbury plain
In Dublin they're depressed lads
Maybe because they're Celts
For drake is going West, lads
And so is everyone else
Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!
Misery is here to stay

There are bad times just around the corner
There are dark clouds hurtling through the sky
And it's no good whining
About a silver lining
For we know from experience they won't roll by
With a scowl and a frown we'll keep our peckers down
And prepare for depression and doom and dread
We're going to unpack our troubles from our old kit bag
And wait until we drop down dead
From Portland Bill to Scarborough
They're querulous and subdued
And Shropshire lads
Have behaved like cads
From Berwick-on-Tweed to Bude
They're mad at Market Harborough
And livid at Leigh-on-Sea
In Tunbridge Wells
You can hear the yells
Of woe-begone bourgeoisie
We all get bitched about, lads
Whoever our vote elects
We know we're up the spout, lads
And that's what England expects
Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!
Trouble is on the way

There are bad times just around the corner
The horizon is gloomy as can be
There are black birds over
The greyish cliffs of Dover
And the rats are preparing to leave the BBC
We're unhappy breed, and very bored indeed
When reminded of something that Nelson said
While the press and the politicians nag, nag, nag
We will wait until we drop down dead
From Colwyn Bay to Kettering
They're sobbing themselves to sleep
The shrieks and wails
In the Yorkshire dales
Have even depressed the sheep
In rather vulgar lettering
A very disgruntled group
Have posted bills
On the Cotswold Hills
To prove that we're in the soup
While begging Kipling's pardon
There's one thing we know for sure:
If England is a garden
We ought to have more manure
Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!
Suffering and dismay

There are bad times just around the corner
And the outlook's absolutely vile
There are Home Fires smoking
From Windermere to Woking
And we're not going to tighten our belts and smile, smile, smile
At the sound of a shot
We'd just as soon as not
Take a hot water bottle and go to bed
We're going to untense our muscles till they sag, sag, sag
And wait until we drop down dead
There are bad times just around the corner
We can all look forward to despair
It's as clear as crystal
From Bridlington to Bristol
That we can't save democracy and we don't much care
If the Reds and the Pinks
Believe that England stinks
And that world revolution is bound to spread
We'd better all learn the lyrics of the old 'Red Flag'
And wait until we drop down dead