They're out of sorts in Sunderland. And terribly cross in Kent. They're down in Hull. And the isle of Mall. 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 hurrying 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. They're nervous in Nigeria. They're all going crazy in Crete. In Bucharest they're so depressed. They're frightend to cross the streets. In maine the melancholia. Is deeper than tongue can tell. In Monako all the croupiers know. They haven't a hope in hell. In far away Australia. Each wallaby is well aware. The world's a total failure. Without any time to spare. Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!. Suffering and dismay. 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'll wait until we drop down dead. 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 belt and Smile Smile Smile. At the sound of shots. We'd just as soon as not. Get a hot water bottle and go to bed. We're going to unpack our troubles from our old kit bag. And wait until we drop down dead. I like your story Land of Hope and Glory. Wait until we drop down dead