There was a house, upon a hill,
Built by a wise old Scot.
No chimney, no stairs, no windows nor sill,
No water, cold or hot.
The walls were thin, with pictures inside,
Of kings, knaves and a queen.
"The house is grand", the Scot - he lied!
(It was the worst house ever seen).
"Keep the houses few, keep the people many,"
Was the wise old Scot's refrain.
"That way, they're worth a pretty penny,
It's good economy - I do maintain"
With a Chinese telly, there's no inflation,
For the wise old Scot to shepherd.
The ginger Hucknall urged a grateful nation,
And with plaudits, the Scot was peppered.
So this dreadful house, built of card,
That the lying Scot has made,
Swamps road, rail and dockard,
With Pole, Paki and Spade.
For when there's people few, houses many,
The reckoning will call.
Then the house of cards - not worth a penny,
Means the lying Scot will fall.
