Life In The Faslane
Of course it’s deadly serious,
Of course it matters greatly:
You may sound, George, imperious,
But where have you been lately?
Should Britain’s subs call someone’s bluff,
We’d gain two ticks. Is that enough?
By all that is unholy,
By all that is absurder,
You may be speaking slowly
About our great self-murder:
Should Britain’s bombs be once deployed,
You’d join us all inside a void.
If we say, rather strident,
We have Poseidon’s force,
That we are launching Trident,
We’d all be dead of course.
Why give them half a thousand mill.
When all of us recall the drill? –
We’ll bomb you if you don’t bomb us,
We have the will, don’t knock it:
Here’s a whizz-bang straight from us,
A brand-new nuclear rocket.
Is this effective, Ozzy, mate?
Is this perhaps a desperate state?