The Cottage Hospice

God bless the cottage hospitals,
The answers to our prayer,
Where Tory ilk
Is bathed in milk
And saved from Mr. Blair.

The roses round their casualties!
The silver service spick!
The nurse in chief
Feeds doctored beef -
It's sure to do the trick.

The surgeon sports a posy,
The matron smells of hay,
And bones are set
To string quartet
Throughout the dying day.

God bless the cottage hospitals,
The Tories' living proof
That national health
Is sold by stealth
Where Thatcher built the roof.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

From the book Tony Blair reminds me of a budgie

Mr. Major's latest 'exciting' idea for the electorate was a revival of cottage hospitals.