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.
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.
The Irishman now our contempt is beneath He sleeps in his boots and he lies through 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
The Welshman's dishonest and 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 Of French and 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 practice 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!
It is with sadness I recall their exchange before the song as including Michael Flanders remarking, "What national song have *we* got? 'There'll Always Be An England?' Not very inspiring--there'll always be a North Pole, unless some dangerous lunatic goes and melts it!"
"The Scots keep the Sabbath - and anything else they can get their hands on. The Welsh pray on their knees - and prey on their neighbours. The Irish aren't sure what they want - but they'll fight you for it anyway.
But the English are a self-made race ....... which saves God having to take the blame."
no subject
Date: 2010-02-12 03:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-12 04:38 pm (UTC)"Because when the Welsh fought the English, they won so much land they just had to pile it up somewhere."
;-)
(I know it's Wales, not Scotland, but I've never been to Scotland, but I have been to Wales. This was told to me by a Welsh busdriver.)
no subject
Date: 2010-02-12 05:08 pm (UTC):-)
Song of Patriotic Prejudice
Date: 2010-02-12 05:58 pm (UTC)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.
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.
The Irishman now our contempt is beneath
He sleeps in his boots and he lies through 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
The Welshman's dishonest and 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
Of French and 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 practice 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!
Re: Song of Patriotic Prejudice
Date: 2010-02-12 06:06 pm (UTC)I'm glad Mr Flanders didn't live to see this day.
Re: Song of Patriotic Prejudice
Date: 2010-02-12 07:28 pm (UTC)The Welsh pray on their knees - and prey on their neighbours.
The Irish aren't sure what they want - but they'll fight you for it anyway.
But the English are a self-made race ....... which saves God having to take the blame."
no subject
Date: 2010-02-12 05:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-12 07:25 pm (UTC)