I went to a theme park yesterday
England it was called
They had lots of things to see there
Amusements for one and all
They had the final British worker there
We watched him clocking in
A quaint old English custom
Sticking a card in a piece of tin
We saw him at his workbench
We saw his sweated brow
We didn't actually see him do anything
Well, their tea-break's just about now
But the way he tackled his sandwich
Which was all of 3 inches thick
It brought a lump to my throat as I watched him
And well, it left me feeling quite sick
If only that vim and that vigour
Had been applied to his craft and his trade
There would be a resurgance in dear old Blighty
And it would be England were Everything's made
But surely success would change us
Like in Hong Kong, would we strangle our vowels
Or would we become like the Germans
And make a bid for the best of the towels