Do you want to see
The Magic Albion Tree
in the dark, enchanted wood?
But first we’ll have tea
of bread and honey
as all good children should

It’s the tallest thing
with leaves that sing
a trunk that grows without measure
There’s a doorbell to ring
to let you in
and a staircase that goes on forever

There’s a slippery-slide
that runs down inside
from the top of the tree to the bottom
but if you haven’t applied
for permission to ride
I’m afraid you’ll be largely forgotten

The people there
are magically fair
You’ll laugh at their curious antics!
But please don’t despair
at the state of repair
that’s really just silly semantics

Meet Monarchy Man
wearing pots and pans
he stole from the goblin kitchen
There’s Socialist Stan
and his pixie clan
endlessly bickerin’ and bitchin’

There’s Old Mister What
whose name I forgot
He stumbles around in the roots
There’s Copper A Lot
who lost the plot
and stomps around in his boots

There’s a bunch of sprites
who keep out of sight
syphoning off all the profits
Though folk unite
to make it right
Copper A Lot’s there to stop it

At the treetop it’s strange
how the clouds rearrange
into lands you could scarcely imagine!
But the queues never change
at the passport exchange
because travel they hate with a passion

So Tom, Rick and Sally-Ann!
Come with me to Albion!
Let’s live in that faraway tree!
The life there is champion
deluded and halcyon
A magical trip – you’ll see!