(Tune: The Vicar of Bray)

In 1928 we cried, "Down with the 
  Labour leaders,"
For Marxist teachings they've denied,
  the Social Fascist bleeders.
The war of classes, we announced,
  would break the constitution;
The Labour Party we denounced and
called for revolution.

And 'tis the line we will maintain,
Until by Moscow altered,
And then by texts we will explain
How all but us have faltered.

In the days when Neville Chamberlain
  flew off to see the Fuehrer,
United Front was our campaign - as
  democrats none purer.
We emphasized, each time we spoke the
  Popular Front solution,
Class war had now become a joke, a
  jest was revolution.

Russia's non-aggression pact left us
  somewhat confus-ed,
Realistically we faced the fact and
  our late friends abus-ed,
The war we'd been prepared to fight
  we dubbed imperialistic;
The Soviets alone were right, all
  others chauvinistic. 

When Hitler and his hordes attacked
  his Soviet Russian neighbor,
Once again we did retract, and now
  supported Labour;
To raise production was our aim - we
  were so patriotic,
To criticize the war became completely

In forty-five we cheered and cried as
  Labour came to power,
We hoped that soon the Tories all
  would live inside the Tower.
But when after three years we saw
  the House of Lords still full, sir
We then began the working class from
Labour's hands to pull, sir.



The Tories are back in again, and
  Labour's opposition,
Once more to kick old Winnie out and
  put Clem back's our mission.
So fight we shall with might and main,
  and if the left succeeds, sir,
We'll show when Labour's in again, for
  them we're broken reeds, sir.


And so you see, whatever we support
  is only fleeting;
Keep flexible our policy and Polit-
  bureau's meeting.
No matter which the way he looks, the
  good comrade is wary;
His next love may be Benelux, or
  Dulles his good fairy.


  (Tune: Man Who Broke the Bank at
         Monte Carlo)

As I stroll around the Kremlin with a
  non-committal air
You should hear the guards declare
"He must be a Commissaire,"
But I'm laughing up my sleeve
Because they never would believe
That I'm the man who does the dirty
  work for Deakin (Churchill, Franco,
  Tito, or anyone else).

As I crouch beneath the table where
  the Politbureau meets,
They would startle from their seats
If they knew the wondrous feats
Of diversionism and sabotage
And civil and military espionage
That I perform the whole year round
  for ...

As I walk around the Red Square in my
holster there's a pistol;
In my pocket a false passport
As I fly to Cafe Bristol,
There to talk of plots and treason
Both in and out of season
With the accredited representatives
  of ...

When the Soviets build machinery of
  the very newest brand,
It is with this very hand
That I sprinkle in the sand.
Sh! the Trotskyites and the T.U.C., and 
  the British Aristocracy;
And I, are the ones who do the dirty 
  work for ...

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