We’re in a brand new tractor factory
Hello! Here in Smolensk butcher shop we sing great new song.
Clegg and Cameron renew vows. In tractor factory. And how nostalgic that make me feel. I was married in tractor factory. Owing to bureaucratic error. Should have been gasworks.
So we suggest they release commemorative single.
We’re in a brand new tractor factory
(To famous tune by The Wurzels > http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9rQmyAxS3U)
We drove to Essex round the M25.
(Oo-ar-oo-ar)
I threw my pitch fork, but Nadine’s still alive.
(Oo-ar-oo-ar)
Now your folks all say flee, and mine say avoid ‘ee.
(Oo-ar-oo-ar)
But come on darling we’ve got something we need.
So we’re in a brand new tractor factory, that’s surely the key.
Come on now, look it’s making stuff. That’s recovery.
I’ve got back bench rebels.Your party all hates ‘ee.
So let’s just renew our vows today, my love. Nicky, stand by me.
(He makes I tea. Ha, ha!)
I’ll stick by you for just as long as you yield.
(Oo-ar-oo-ar)
We’ll hack jobs and incomes, you’ll be my human shield.
(Oo-aa-oo-ar)
And you know I love you Nicky, you are my right hand,
(Oo-ar-oo-ar)
But the thing I want the most is all the votes you command.
At this event, no talk of Leveson, that’s just fine by me.
Come on now, grin and bear it Nick. Smile you’re on TV.
Think of all them voters: what they’ll do to ‘ee,
So just shout it out: “there’s no alternative!” Well done my Cleggie.
(Oo-ar, we do love your Orange Book, an all)
If ever I tried to go alone in this place,
(Oo-ar-oo-ar)
They’d say it was reaction, just some right-wing disgrace.
(Oo-ar-oo-ar)
But cos you propped me up – don’t yer change yer mind!
(Oo-ar-oo-ar)
They think that I’m a centrist, and not Mr Gradgrind.
So we’re going to stay in Coalition Nick. Just look at Nadine.
Peter Bone’ll froth his mouth a bit. Moderates we’ll seem.
Hollande’s won in Paris. Greeks left n rightwards lean.
But Mervyn’ll say no other policy keeps the markets keen.
(Who loves you Nicky, Vince?)
Weren’t we a grand couple at the rose garden dance?
I wore yellow gaiters. You wore your blue pants.
For when I can cross dress, with my hand inside your hand,
We had the Blairites’ love: Ed they couldn’t stand.
So let’s sing we’re all in this together Nick, cos you can still see,
Raising tax threshold’s up to where you want, that’s worth 50p.
So we’ve cut all those credits, and hiked up VAT.
But look at this Essex tractor factory. It’s worth the agony.
(Arghh, you’re a fine looking posh boy, and I can’t wait to get my hands on your seats! Ah-ha!)
