No Aston, no Martin
No mountain to ski
Surrounded, your England
By Scots and the sea
Just Scots and the sea

Your sky only ceiling
Your lives only one
As clouds part, revealing
Your supervillain
Your supervillain

No bow ties or sharp suits
You dress like a slob
Still killing occasionally
For majesty and God
Her majesty and God

Banal non-republic
A shaggable joke
No ingenious gadgets
They make too much smoke
And we're all too woke

No gold in your fingers
No moon left to rake
So little remembered
Of your greatest mistake