Here in the comfort of a favorite chair

Or smugly from the tap room at the Whitehorse

I can prove mathematically

Just when and when not to take up arms

When to fight and when to surrender

(Chorus)

This way or that way or this way or that way

Bang on the dustbin lids here come the Brits

An empire of vampires we're sitting in our armchairs

Nothing has changed we're just younger moralists

Easy enough to turn the other cheek

When you don't get slapped around

When cupboards and bellies are full fit to burst

Let the enemy do his worst

(Repeat chorus)

Here in written word, in song, in coversation

Courtrooms sit in anticipation of the reading of the rules

The exiled poet fleeing Nazi Germany, would say,

'Oh these divine commandments are not much use against murder'