Paper Tories from the sky
Spineless men who cringe and lie:
Men who mean not what they say
Hollow men of the Blue Beret.
Pale blue rosettes on their chest,
These are men, the EU’s best.
One hundred men will drink today,
But only three on the chardonnay.
Changed to live in Labour’s land:
Run from combat, hand-to-hand.
Men who chat by night and day'
Double-talk from the Blue Berets
Pale blue ties upon their chest
If these are men, they’re PR’s best.
One hundred men will trough today
All but three eat the canapé.
Back at home a young wife waits
Her Tommy brave has met his fate.
He has died for those oppressed
Leaving her his last request:
Who will help the small platoons
Whose pay was swapped for silver spoons?
There'll be a man we’ll raise one day.
He’ll need more balls than a Blue Beret.