They repealed the feudal system
in seventeen eighty nine
If you want a fief
Well bad luck chief
This just is not the time

You might have once been Seigneur
What Brits like us call ‘Lord’
By dint of berf
You’re not a serf
You’ve got manor house and board

The truth is much less noble
More what the folk at home want
(Unless home is Sark, you own the park
and your name’s Michael Beaumont)


Take a look, take a look, take a look at me
I’m the B-U-M and the B-L-E
With a B to the E and another E
I’m the ever-lovin’ ever-buzzin’ bumblebee

Don’t hunker in a hive like a honey bee
We do the bumblebee jive in a colony
in a hole underground or a hole in a tree
Don’t mess with us honey with your apiary

I’m the tiger in the sky dressed in yellow and black
See me flying real high got four wings on my back
I’m perfect aerodynamically
I’m the ever-loving’ ever-buzzin’ bumblebee


The trouble with Henri his pauvre mère said
Is he suffers from ennui, won’t get out of bed
He won’t put his feet on the tedious floor
The thought of a shower’s a terrible bore
He’s resting he tells her, in between lulls
He’d flick through a book but they’re horribly dull
He goes to the toilet but just cos he must
He’d stay out of bed but he just can’t be fussed
Attempts to amuse him are met with a sigh
He says he would titter but he can’t quite see why
His Mum hopes that Amazon will end her sorrow
The dynamite’s ordered – it turns up tomorrow