(Words and music: Adrian Slade)
David, Oh David,
What have you done?
Playing at Liberals
Was once
such fun.
I've been fighting for PR
Since I was a boy.
But I don't want
to share it
With Shirley and Roy.
Chorus:
Social Democracy!
What the hell is it meant to be?
I
don't want to live with the soggy dems.
I just want to live on my own.
I love resolutions
And meetings and things.
I've always got
jumble
If somebody rings.
I love being a candidate
Just when I
choose
But it won't be much fun
If we're not going to
lose.
Chorus:
That Owen! He's arrogant,
Thinks he is it.
That Shirley! She
wanted
To push out Bill Pitt.
That Rodgers can take
His hands off us
because
It was us who told Jenkins
Where Warrington
was.
Chorus:
They could have been Liberals;
They could have stayed put;
They could
have backed Healey;
They could fought Foot;
They could have had
One new
idea in their head,
But decided to pinch all
The Liberals'
instead.
Chorus:
North Devon, Torrington,
Ross and Caithness,
Cheadle, North
Cornwall,
And Bessel's success;
Orpington, Ripon and Sutton -
You
choose 'em
Libs know how to win them
And know how to lose
'em!
Chorus:
We've won seats on councils,
We've taken the brunt.
We don't mind them
behind us,
But not out in front
We don't need a partner,
We don't want
a rival.
We just want to have
A new Liberal revival.
Chorus:
Stuff 'em being famous,
Stuff 'em being new
Stuff 'e, being
radical
Like me and you.
Stuff their campaigning,
It's nowt but a
farce,
They should stuff a few Focuses
Right up their
...
Chorus:
(Words: Simon Banks, Tune: Marching Thro' Georgia)
Bring the good old Focus-freaks, we'll do another street;
Focus till we're
goggle-eyed and steam comes from our feet;
Get the problems sorted out while
Labour only bleat,
When we are marching through Bermondsey.
Chorus:
Hurrah! Hurrah! We'll get you off the rocks!
Hurrah!
Hurrah! We're working off our ... socks!
So we sang this chorus from Elephant
to the Docks
When we were marching through Bermondsey.
Tatchell hit the headlines, boys, but Simon hit the trail;
Labour put
their Foot in it, and Focus could not fail;
Liberals came from far and wide,
for Simon and good ale,
When we were marching through
Bermondsey.
Chorus:
There were lads from Leyton, boys, and lasses up from Kent;
Hertfordshire
and Dorset came, and Croydon too, and Brent;
SDP were also there, and sure it
was well meant,
When we were marching through
Bermondsey.
Chorus:
When we made the joyful sound, it lifted up the lifts;
Filled the empty
flats again, and healed the pavement rifts;
There were Liberal votes in
hoards, but none of them were gifts
When we were marching through
Bermondsey.
Chorus:
Tatchell went, and Tilley came and said that he was straight;
English, not
Australian; no cobber, but a mate;
But the folk read Focus and thought Simon
Hughes was great
When we were marching through
Bermondsey.
Chorus:
(Words: Mark Taverner, Tune: Climb Every Mountain)
Climb every staircase,
Don't spare your feet,
Scour every tower
block
Till you win your seat.
Climb every staircase,
Try every door,
Canvass every voter,
Till you
find one more.
One vote that may mean
That you candidate's in,
That may turn a
defeat
To a glorious win.
Climb every staircase
Try every door
Canvass every voter,
Till you
find one more.
(Tune: If you were the Only Girl in the World)
If you were the only Shirl in the world
And I were the only
Woy,
Nothing else would matter in the world today,
We could go on loving
in the same old way.
If David and Bill fall i with my plans
And the
members don't get a say,
I will find such wonderful things to do;
I'll
even find a second-rate job for you.
If you were the only Shirl in the
world
And I were the only Woy.
If you were the only Shirl in the world
And I were the only Woy,
Think
of all the Democwats we would bweed,
We'd get all the votes that we would
ever need.
A blancmange of centrists, Liberals too,
Some working-class
lads for show.
You'd be President, I'd be in control;
You'd be my
lieutenant, a very agweeable wole.
If you were the only Shirl in the
world
And I were the only Woy.
If you were the only Shirl in the world
And I were the only Woy,
We
could be so happy and so civilised
Once we'd shed those pwoletawian Labour
ties.
We'd stock up with clawet, a good line in hock;
We'd leave all the
plebs the beer.
I would be so wonderfully good to you.
You would be so
wonderfully good for me.
For you are the only Shirl in the world
And I am
the only Woy
(Words: Mark Taverner, Tune: Eternal Father)
Eternal David, for the fight
With others thou bidd'st us unite.
With
prophets odd, with doctrine strange
For these we must our seats
exchange.
O hear us when we cry to thee;
Why must we love the SDP?
Thou tied us to the Gang of Four.
We shall pure Liberals be no
more.
What help or gain dost thou believe
From this surrender, we
receive?
O Hear us when we cry to thee:
Why must we love the SDP?
Accept our prayer in spirit meant,
We do not question thine intent.
We
share with thee the will to win,
The Tories out and Liberals in.
Eternal
David, just for thee,
We'll try to love the SDP.
(La Marseillaise)
A bon amis de l' Essdipie,
Vos coeurs et Roi sont fiances:
Contre nos
magnifiques parties,
C'est La Femme de Fer, ou Pied,
C'est La Femme de
Fer, ou Pied!
Rencontrez-nous pour les campagnes
Bouger ces fossiles vers
le bas
C'est rien a les vaincre, n'est-ce pas?
Donc buvons nos verres de
champagne
A guerre, Penhaligons! Gagnez les Warringtons!
Garçon!
Garçon!
Deux vins encore, m'sieur, pour nos chansons!
(Words: Stuart Callison)
Speed bonnie boat,
Like a hack on the make;
Back to his seat on
Skye.
Carry the lad that was born to be King,
Back to the seat on
Skye
Where is the man?
Down in the bar,
Loudly the Whips
pro-clai-aim
Out on the town,
Out of his head,
Charlie is pissed
again.
(Words: Simon Titley, Tune: The Times They Are A-changin'
Come gather round Liberals wherever you roam
And admit that your Leader to
fudgin' is prone.
And accept that now all his principles are flown
'Cos
it's real power for which he is aimin'.
So you'd better sell out and become a
Steel-clone.
Oh the policies they are a-changin'
Come radicals, Grassroots and end your defiance.
We'll drop our old line
and we'll form an Alliance
With the Gang of Four mould-breaking soggy Dem
giants
Who expect us to do all their slavin'.
And if that doesn't work
then they'll blind us with science.
Oh the policies they are a-changin'
Come policy experts who speak with forked tongue;
You're needed to form a
new Joint Commission.
With a judge, and MP, Richard Holme and a don
And a
peer that is rapidly agein':
The report you'll churn out will be just a big
con.
Oh the policies they are a-changin'
Come bores and fanatics, who to Europe do cling;
And admit all you want
are the free foreign flings.
So we'll join E.L.D even though it's
right-wing
With a programme that's positively shamin'.
No wonder our Party
gets an adverse swing
Oh the policies they are a-changin'.
Don't ask me the line on free trade or on cruise;
On council house sales,
acid rain or the Druze.
Don't ask about rate-capping or sniffing
glues
'Cos the radical line's beyond savin'.
The tough and the tender?
I'll just drown in booze.
Oh the policies they are a-changin'.
Tune: St. Peter
How sweet the name of Chegwyn sounds
In a candidate's ear.
It calms all
panics, clears all frowns,
And drives away all fear.
It flummoxes the MORI poll
And upsets all the rest.
Vince Hanna says
we're near the goal
And Labour does the rest.
O Name that angers labour more
Than Tories ever could.
Socialists over
leaflets pour
And wish theirs were as good.
Weak is the feeling in my legs
From pushing things through doors;
But
when I get back to HQ -
He'll send me out once more.
Till then I would sing of campaigns
In towns both near and far,
And
others who would do the same
Can join me in the bar.
(Words: Ralph Bancroft and Caroline Morgan, Tune: Tip-toe Through the Tulips)
Tip-toe through the Tories
With a Focus and a window bill.
Come tip-toe
through the Tories with me.
Tip-toe through the Tories
With a poster and a
canvass card.
Come tip-toe through the Tories with me.
Knee-deep in Tories we'll stride
We'll smash their vote open wide.
And
if I kick one in the goolies
And they arrest me
Will you bail me
out?
Come tip-toe through the Tories with me.
(Words: Mark Taverner, Tune: The Ugly Duckling)
There once was a Liberal leader
With feathers all fluffy and brown;
And
the other Libs said to his nibs:
Quack, quack! Get out of town.
Quack,
quack! Get out. Quack, quack! Get out.
Quack, quack! Get out of town.
All through Assembly time he hid himself away,
Ashamed to show his face,
afraid of what others might say.
All through Assembly left moping with his
greed
When a bunch of sogs espied him there and very soon agreed:
You're a
very fine sog indeed!
Spoken
And he said, "Me? A sog?"
"Take a look at yourself in the
lake"
And he saw and he said, "I am a sog! Wheee..."
"I'm not such a Liberal leader
With principles solid and sound."
And
the other sogs went the whole hog
And said, "the best in town.
Quack,
quack! the best. Quack, quack! the best,
Quack, quack! The best in town."
Not a Greaves, not a Greaves, not a Smithson, nor a Greaves:
But a Bill
and a Shirley and an Owen if you please;
And a Roy so noble and high.
"Say
who's a Liberal leader? Not I!"
(Tune: Tannenbaum)
The party's flag is pallid pink
And old Madeira is our drink,
Though
Labour sneers and Tories plot,
We will remain a moderate lot.
Then raise
our banner shoulder-height,
For to do more is impolite,
We are so
middle-of-the-road,
Our guiding light's the Highway Code.
(Tune: Our Church's one foundation)
Our party's one foundation
Is Dai, Shirl, Bill and Roy.
We'll back up
Conservation
Or any other ploy.
We have no manifesto,
No policies have
we,
But vote us in - Hey Presto!
You'll see what you will see.
