|
Reflecting on the Empire after eight... pig's head on a plate |
|
white wine... The mint imperials circulated... Captain sips his brandy, |
|
curses Ghandi, dreams Napoleon and Delhi turns to jelly; Bombay ducks; |
|
Calcutta shivers down in its hole... Old England is out to rule the waves |
|
again - banging on the table! Routing the reds and the browns and the |
|
yellows. Black sky... the missles blast home! (It's half for me, half |
|
for my company) |
|
My union's name is Jack, and it's a ripper! hammers her head with a |
|
sickle, nails monkey to the tree. The lasers, they beam from the stars and |
|
Moscow is charred. Peking is leaking. Tripoli's stripped (ha! ha!) - |
|
Mohammed, he flees from his mountain, counting the corpses in the stadiums |
|
with his shades on cos the white light hurts his eyes. And Captain, he |
|
cries, Captain, he screams, falls out of bed. It's only a dream (?) |
|
Nightnurse wipes his forehead, whispers "try to sleep... back to sleep..." |
