Here in the comfort of a favorite chair Or smugly from the tap room at the Whitehorse I can prove mathematically Just when and when not to take up arms When to fight and when to surrender (Chorus) This way or that way or this way or that way Bang on the dustbin lids here come the Brits An empire of vampires we're sitting in our armchairs Nothing has changed we're just younger moralists Easy enough to turn the other cheek When you don't get slapped around When cupboards and bellies are full fit to burst Let the enemy do his worst (Repeat chorus) Here in written word, in song, in coversation Courtrooms sit in anticipation of the reading of the rules The exiled poet fleeing Nazi Germany, would say, 'Oh these divine commandments are not much use against murder'