Somewhere in a town in England
  lay a babe with a curious smile.
  He was of your father's children.
  Born each side of a dry-stone mile.
  He grew up through the schools and factories,
  Brunel's tunnels and bridges bold.
  Grey towers built high on that Kingdom
  with apartments still unsold.
  Somewhere in a town in England.
  Could be Newcastle, Leeds or Birmingham.
  And were you made in
  England's green and pleasant land.
  He accepts no unemployment
  and is to indeterminate station bred.
  Is possessed of skills and reason
  Flies the flag upon his head.
  Watches the democratic process
  grind it's way through the Commons cold
  Filled with fiery infiltrators
  who would pave the streets with England's gold.