Song Of The Six Hundred

‘We are 'ere met together in this momentous hower, Ter lick th' bankers' dirty boots an' keep the Bank in power.’ We are 'ere met together ter grind the same old axes And keep the people in its place a'payin' us the taxes. We are six hundred beefy men (but mostly gas and suet) An’ every year we meet to let some other feller do it.' I see their 'igh 'ats on the seats an' them sprawling on the benches And thinks about a Rowton 'ouse and a lot of small street stenches. 'O Britain, muvver of parliaments, 'ave you seen yer larst sweet litter? Could yeh swap th' brains of orl this lot fer 'arft a pint o' bitter?' ‘I couldn't,' she sez, ‘an' I aint tried, They're me own,' she sez to me, ‘As footlin' a lot as was ever spawned to defend democracy.'