My heart is heavy and my head is busting / watching these Tories out on the husting / banging on about faith & trusting / all the lies they’re busily thrusting / down the nation’s gagging throat / in a beauty pageant to win the vote / of 200,000 true blue members / especially those that still remember / with a dreamy kinda rinsed blue rapture / the sacred figure of Margaret Thatcher / patron saint of benefit snatchers / who rode a cock horse to Banbury Cross / and slayed the dragon of the union boss / and was never a lady much for turning / not even when the cities were burning / but sank a goodly number of ships / and used her handbag hard on the whips / and where there was discord, brought forth harmony / and where there was Irish, brought forth army / and where there was discord, brought a little hope / especially if it came with a rope / a trident missile and a periscope / a riot shield and a baton charge / oh tell me where thou resteth, Marge? / for verily we need thee back in charge / your blood may have been bitter as the xenomorph from Alien / your hairdo hard, your compassion subterranean / but at least there was a certain rusty heft / to the way you set about gutting the left / and though my loathing transcended this earth / you make this current bunch look like the smurfs