(Lyrics adapted from a parody of a popular patriotic Victorian song)
Happy land! happy land! Thy fame resounds shore to shore
Happy land! where ’tis a crime, they tell us, to be poor.
If you shelter cannot find, of you they’ll soon take care:
Most likely send you to grind wind – For sleeping in the air.
Happy land! happy land! To praise thee, who will cease?
To guard us, pray, now ain’t we got a precious New Police?
A passport we shall soon require, which by them must be scanned,
If we to take a walk desire – Oh, ain’t this happy land?
Happy land! happy land! Ne’er from thee I will stray,
The soldier cries, because, y’see, he cannot get away.
For nothing flogged, with grief he sighs, while probably the band,
Strike up to drown the wretch’s cries – To the tune of ‘Happy Land!’
Happy land! happy land! is now the chant in every street.
Happy land! happy land! Sings everyone you meet.
The ballad-singer, minus clothes; shirtless, coatless,
And with buckets none to shield his toes – He warbles ‘Happy land!’