Oh Heaven help our Linda

She's really done it now

What's more it's all so obvious

I mean her stomachs sticking out

If father tells me' mother

She's bound to have a fit

Followed by a neat convulsion

Thanks to our permissive twit

She thinks his name was Ronald

Or was it Sid or Len

The only thing that's certain

Is that it wasn't Bill or Ben

Our parish priest God bless him

The very reverend Father Pitt

Will no doubt be preaching sermons

To our dear Permissive Twit

By now the word

Will no doubt have been heard

By almost every bleeding nosy parker in our alley

all except that is

Our own great aunt Liz

Who I hear's been deaf since the day our Grace

recorded Sally, Sally, Sally



(Break)



Unless we raise the money

She'll have to let it out

What I mean is she will have to

Have it the right way wrong way about

In other words let nature

Take its course and do its bit

For the sake of those concerned with

Own dear permissive

Dear permissive twit