Sing Ho! for the A-bomb melody   It merrily whistles down on me   I'm wrapped in silver foil   My blood is on the boil   B 52's flutter coyly      All I want is a flat in Berkeley Square   With colour TV set, reclining chair   Big box of Suchard for me to devour   Antique grandfather clock, phone in the shower      Hurrah! for the missiles from heaven's gate   They syncopate gaily in 7/8   I mambo to the sound   Of Martels, air-to-ground   I hear the baying of Bloodhounds      All I require is a Rolls-Royce Corniche   Cocktail cabinet for the nouveaux riches   Persian carpets and Van Goghs in the boot   Cardin 3-piece beneath my Noddy suit      Hip! Hip! for machine gun, breve and rest   It beats out a rhythm in my chest   Crotchets in my belly   Turn my legs to jelly   Quavers are F sharp and L, G      All I desire is a Swiss bank account   Given an O.B.E. and made a Count   Country estate with a resident staff   Acute angina and an epitaph