Hits From The Fifties - No. 1: The Ballad of Crazy Lilley

Crazy, Crazy Lilley, king of the wild front bench
Raised on an overdose of Ovaltine,
Cheered at the Coronation of The Queen,
Made The Mighty Mekon admit he was a Treen,
Polished his satchel till it was squeaky clean:
Crazy, Crazy Lilley, king of the wild front bench.

He ate up all his Bakelite, and scoffed his Spam,
Wept like a bucket at the final tram,
Whited out the Gollies on the jars of jam,
And sharpened up his pencils for the next exam:
Crazy, Crazy Lilley, king of the wild front bench.

Rehearsed being monitor, for when he grew,
Confiscated conkers or a penny chew,
Strained all the tea-leaves for the family brew,
Caught all the polio, and typhoid too:
Crazy, Crazy Lilley, king of the wild front bench.

He poured some castor oil upon his athlete's feet:
Polished semolina on the bobby's beat,
Snubbed single mothers when they walked the village street,
Never parked his bum upon a public toilet seat:
Crazy, Crazy Lilley, king of the wild front bench.

He counted up the hassocks when he went to church
And measured every cemetery by pole or perch,
Lectured any urchins when he found them in a lurch,
And beat his teddy's bottom with a special little birch:
Crazy, Crazy Lilley, king of the wild front bench.

Now he is a tit inside a fifties trance,
Taking half-a-crown from all his maiden aunts,
Teaching all the immigrants to morris dance,
And hopping off on holiday to rural France....
Crazy, Crazy Lilley, king of the wild front bench!

From the book Tony Blair reminds me of a budgie