Kunci: D major
Verse 1
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Hitmar!
Hitmar!
Rah! Rah! Rah!
Now stand up please
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for an important announcement
by the Right Horrible,
the Minister of Aggravation and
Mysteries.
Have a roll of paper ready.
You may need it.
He will be speaking to you
while seated at his desk,
or more likely under his desk.
Ladies and gentlemen,
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Hitmar in person.
Well, hello folks.
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Now before I evacuate the chair,
which I have polished
with so much posteriosity
during the last few weeks,
I want to demonstrate
a few remarkable inventions
which will help to make your lives more
complicated than ever.
Next week I'm sending to every
householder in England
a roll of spy paper,
which catches spies alive
and brings them to a sticky
end.
Now remember folks,
at all times you are surrounded
by spies.
You could always tell a male spy
by the dots on his dickie.
And as for a lady spy,
ah, she always conceals
secret documents
at the tops of her stockings,
in the day -to -on -her -dining -room,
and around the marble arch.
Now, as your Minister of Aggravation,
it's my function to impose
as many restrictions
as possible.
After dark, all motorhorns must
be muffled.
If in the daytime they make a noise like this, beep,
beep,
then at night they're
only allowed to this. Beep.
Now my department gets a lot of letters
from motorists asking
me what they should do
if they run out of petrol
on a dark night in a lonely lane.
Well they've been doing that for years
and the girl has usually had to walk home.
I advise any girl who accepts
a lift from a man
during the blackout to carry
my patent dirty dog detector
which cries help help
when the motorist goes too far and
too fast.
I also have a rather more expensive
dirty dog detector
which cries and hand me Colonel
Brandy Bowles
in seven different keys.
Every good girl should have one.
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Oh, just excuse me a moment, folks.
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I want it on the telephone.
This is it, Marth. Who is that?
This is Funk speaking.
Funk? Is that a name or a rude expression?
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No, just Funk. I warn you.
Once again, you have enemies.
Oh, take a running pump at yourself.
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Have a care! You are doomed!
Well, soak my centipodes.
Never mind,
folks, don't take any notice.
Now, as your Minister of Aggravation,
I can assure you that you needn't worry
about the temporary shortage of sugar.
I know that the sugar
with the dark brown taste called demerara
gets damn rarer every day.
But if you go short of sugar,
just think of me,
and a lump will come in your throat.
Finally,
I must warn all pedestrians
that in future they must carry rear lights
and wear a gong attached to the seat of
authority.
Anybody caught kicking the gong around
will be brought before me and condemned to
listen to a recital of gramophone records
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for the rest of his natural life.
Given under my foot
this 19th day of October 1939,
Tomfoolery Handley,
Minister of Acrimony and Twerpsickery.
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It ma, it ma, rah, rah, rah!
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