George Orwell (Eric Arthur Blair)

A happy vicar I might have been Two hundred years ago To preach upon eternal doom

Oh! give me the strength of the Lion, The wisdom of reynard the Fox And then I'll hurl troops at the Germans

When I was young and had no sense In far-off Mandalay I lost my heart to a Burmese girl

No stone is set to mark his nation's loss, No stately tomb enshrines his noble breast; Not e'en the tribute of a wooden cross

Our minds are married, but we are too young For wedlock by the customs of this age When parent homes pen each in separte cage

'Brush your teeth up and down, brother, Oh, brush them up and down! All the folks in London Town

Empty as death and slow as pain The days went by on leaden feet; And parson's week had come again

So here are you, and here am I, Where we may thank our gods to be; Above the earth, beneath the sky,