Long life to each investor and each spender!
Long live the Staff! Long live the A.S.E.!
So long as England’s in the melting-pot,
A prudent bard must sing, “Long live the lot!”
For who shall say—at close of Armageddon,
When the world’s finished beggaring its neighbour,
When the last shell’s been fired, the last pig fed on—
If we’ll be ruled by Capital or Labour:
If a Welsh harp shall twang part-songs of Seddon,
While Simon pipes a compromising tabor: