A Song of Patriotic Prejudice

The English, the English, the English are best I wouldn't give tuppence for all of the rest! The rottenest bits of these islands of ours We've left in the hands of three unfriendly powers Examine the Irishman, Welshman or Scot You'll find he's a stinker, as likely as not Och aye, awa' wi' yon Edinburgh Festival! The Scotsman is mean, as we're all well aware And bony and blotchy and covered with hair He eats salted porridge, he works all the day And he hasn't got bishops to show him the way! The English, the English, the English are best I wouldn't give tuppence for all of the rest! Ah hit me old mother over the head with a shillelagh The Irishman now our contempt is beneath He sleeps in his boots and he lies in his teeth He blows up policemen, or so I have heard And blames it on Cromwell and William the Third! The English are noble, the English are nice And worth any other at double the price! Ah, iechyd da! The Welshman's dishonest, he cheats when he can And little and dark, more like monkey than man He works underground with a lamp in his hat And he sings far too loud, far too often, and flat! And crossing the Channel, one cannot say much For the French or the Spanish, the Danish or Dutch The Germans are German, the Russians are red And the Greeks and Italians eat garlic in bed! The English are moral, the English are good And clever and modest and misunderstood! And all the world over, each nation's the same They've simply no notion of playing the game They argue with umpires, they cheer when they've won And they practise beforehand, which ruins the fun! The English, the English, the English are best So up with the English and down with the rest! It's not that they're wicked or naturally bad It's knowing they're foreign that makes them so mad! For the English are all that a nation should be, And the flower of the English are Donald, Michael, Donald, Michael, And Me!