Oh Heaven help our Linda She's really done it now What's more it's all so obvious I mean her stomachs sticking out If father tells me' mother She's bound to have a fit Followed by a neat convulsion Thanks to our permissive twit She thinks his name was Ronald Or was it Sid or Len The only thing that's certain Is that it wasn't Bill or Ben Our parish priest God bless him The very reverend Father Pitt Will no doubt be preaching sermons To our dear Permissive Twit By now the word Will no doubt have been heard By almost every bleeding nosy parker in our alley all except that is Our own great aunt Liz Who I hear's been deaf since the day our Grace recorded Sally, Sally, Sally (Break) Unless we raise the money She'll have to let it out What I mean is she will have to Have it the right way wrong way about In other words let nature Take its course and do its bit For the sake of those concerned with Own dear permissive Dear permissive twit
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