(To the tune of Gilbert & Sullivan's "Oh, is there not one maiden breast?" from The Pirates of Penzance)
Mitt Romney:
Oh, is there not one British breast,
That does not sense my superiority,
And show uncommon interest
In treating me like visiting royalty?
What Briton on this islet small would not grant my vocation
To shine upon this dinky stage as a world-class elder statesman?
Yes, an elder statesman!
Oh is there not one Briton, please
In this whole "Anglo-Saxon land,"
Who'll not regard my expertise
Olympic-wise, as something grand?
As unprepared as you must be
To run the Games without disaster
I'll tutor M-I-Six for free;
They'll quickly learn from ME, the master,
Learn from Mitt the master!
The U.K. Chorale:
Alas, there’s not one Brit so daft,
In all this realm, this sceptered isle,
Who'd listen to a git so naff
And not say shut your bleeding pie-'ole!
Mitt: Not one?
The U.K. Chorale: No, nowt.
Mitt: Not one?
Boris Johnson: Not a sausage. Wanker.
Brittania: And before you go off to crack Polish jokes in Kracow, hear this! (sings)
"Poor Blund'ring One"
Poor Blundering One!
Oh, you are truly lame!
Take off, we pray
Leave the U.K!
Poor blundering one!
Poor shambling one!
Manners are not in your line!
Insult our Games,
And reap the flames!
We shan't cast pearls before swine!
Take off, please sail away
Break off your fruitless stay
Flake off, no insults, pray
Make off without delay!
Fake toff, you're unrefined!
You're no Cousin of mine!
Take off, on the Green Line
Flake off, don't stop to whine!
Ahhh..... Ahhh.....
Poor blundering one!
Though I'm the tolerant kind,
You and your hoss
May kiss my arse!
Poor blundering one!
Mitt Romney:
Cruel Brittania!
Britannia rules the Games!
Britons twitter, twitter, twitter
I'm in flames!
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