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Song in an Hour Lyrics

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Royal Drinking Song
   
  (Many thanks to Darth for these lyrics).
   
Yon: Just because I’m royal,
  Doesn’t mean I can’t get spoiled.
  Or ripped or munted, stoned or blasted,
  I’m no stuck up blue blood bastard.
   
Gatesy and Scod: Give me the sweet elixir, that’ll surely do the trick-ser.
  I’m entitled to like what I like,
Gatesy: Even though my voice sounds like Dick Van Dyke, eh?
   
Tripod: A man’s home is his castle,
  Well, at least in our case it’s true.
  If your face was on this many magnets and plates,
  See what effect it would have on you.
   
  After a hard day’s colonising,
  And preventing the third world from rising.
  A hard day’s work needs a big cold beer,
  But we also need one too.
   
Gatesy: Go Lizzie!
Yon: Je voudrais un orangina, un kilo de pommes.
Scod: Lizzie, do you have anything in the Queen’s English?
Yon: Oh, yes.
Scod: 'Cause you’re English.
Yon: Yes. I would like an orange drink, one kilo of apples.
   
Gatesy and Scod: When you’re this inbred, and your relatives are dead.
Scod: This is a joke for the very well read:
  Just like Thomas Moore, we give good head.
   
Tripod: (British laughter)
Scod: That’s not very funny, is it?
   
Tripod: A man’s home is his castle,
  Well, at least in our case it’s true.
  If your face was on this many magnets and plates,
  See what effect it would have on you.
   
  After a hard day’s colonising,
  And preventing the third world from rising.
  A hard day’s work needs a big cold beer,
  But we also need one too.
   
Yon: The empire’s disappearing,
  And the world is full of foreigners.
  The third world is a rising up,
  Ever since we let them in the bloody world cup.
   
Gatesy and Scod: When you’re less famous than Brittany,
  With the political clout of Mike Whitney.
  Who’d be so cruel to deny ya,
  A quick shot of Stoligniyer?
   
Scod: Harry!
Gatesy: Hello Harry.
Scod: Harry, hey... hey... ha-ha, hey.
   
  Hey, let's hear what this chorus sounds like in other languages.
   
Tripod: Livin’ la vida locha. Guten abend, gut nachte. Je ne regret rien.
Scod: He is no Jedi bodshooda.
   
  I think we fade out here...
Gatesy: I’m so drunk, I forgot to write an ending...
Yon: The end.

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