Hif a yankee cutthroat acks is poor hold mother,
Hit tykes a year to pack im hoff to jyle;
E can halways dig hup some hexcuse or hotter
To keep your justice creepin like a snyle.
But hin HEngland, hif a bloke gets hinto trouble,
To the pen hin arf a jiffy e will roam;
Hif e mykes a fight is punishment will double
We do things so muc better hover ome.
Hif a bloomin Yankee starts to build a dwelling
E slaps hit hup without a bit hof care,
In arf the time hit tykes me in the telling,
E as the chimney pot hup in the hair.
But hin HEngland ouses halways last forever,
We build em right, from cellar to dome;
Halthough you bloomin Yankees think youre clever,
We do things so much better hover ome.
Ere hits always elter-skelter, rush and bustle,
Hand hits pell-mell hinto heverthing you do;
You heven teach your children ow to ustle
Your meals you never tyke the time to chew.
But hin HEngland, when hits tea time, we stop working,
Han HI wish that HI was back hacross the foam,
Hin my ead the notoin still his plynely lurking,
We do things so much better hover ome.