Sing ho! for the A-bomb melodynIt merrily whistles down on menI'm wrapped in silver foilnMy blood is on the boilnB-52s flutter coylynnAll I want is a flat in Berkeley SquarenWith colour TV set, reclining chairnBig box of Suchard for me to devournAntique grandfather clock, phone in the showernnHurrah! For the missiles from heaven's gatenThey syncopate gaily in seven eightnI mambo to the soundnOf Martels, air-to-groundnI hear the baying of bloodhoundsnnAll I require is a Rolls Royce CornichenCocktail cabinet for the nouveaux richesnPersian carpets and Van Goghs in the bootnCardin three-piece beneath my Noddy suitnnHip! hip! for machine gun, breve and restnIt beats out a rhythm in my chestnCrotchets in my bellynTurn my legs to jellynQuavers are F sharp and L, GnnAll I desire is a Swiss bank accountnGiven an OBE and made a CountnCountry estate with a resident staffnAcute angina and an epitaph