Well, Well, Welby

Well, well, Welby Beg your pardon He’s got three Poles At the bottom of his garden* And joining in with daily prayers Some Syrians beneath the stairs Asylum seekers in his shed And Communists Beneath his bed He’s just doing what he can To pander to the ‘common’ man To separate the issues, see Of race and the economy With good intent, to bridge the gap ‘Twixt logic and the racist cr*p For Welby is a diplomat Just in case, and just like that It’s not that we’re a racist state Good luck with that one, Welby, mate Imagine pubs across the land The dodgy banter, beer in hand That Archbishop got it right We’re all white mate, we’re all white Share our wealth with all the planet? Outrageous! (outraged Bob from Thanet) But what of all the fish and bread With which five thousand mouths were fed Would Jesus Christ have found it hard To put up Poles in his back yard? by Gail * a play on the words of the English joke "Well, well, well, three holes in the garden"