A Tolerate Britain

I tolerate my young son He bought a small pellet gun His language’s a little obscene Because he’s just turned thirteen I tolerate my daughter No one could ever hate her? Her boy friend hates all the blacks She follows in her mum’s tracks I tolerate all non-whites I don’t deny them our rights They lack British ancestry There not part of this country We’re a tolerate nation With reserved race relations We have the token black friend Who we know but don’t defend