Enoch Powell Space Poet

Blakey and Olive, freaks and fascists
It's a Knockout with tiny moustaches
The Mosley frontbench, cheered on by the masses
Take on the cast of On the Buses
A cry goes up: "I'll get you, Butler"
Mosley leers, he's played his Joker
Enoch Powell, he's the man for me
Enoch Powell, he's the man for me
Powell gets tired of simple people
So he annexed the Midlands to frighten some liberals
Former firebrand has epiphany hairy
Now it's Groundhogs, Gong and Pink Fairies
The pot-head pixies on his shoulder
Are getting more right-wing as they get older
Enoch Powell, he's the man for me
Enoch Powell, he's the man for me
The former MP, now poet laureate, surveys the scene below, the giant custard pies and the foam...
[???]
Floating anarchy, that's where I want to be
'Cos space rocks, and space is the place for me
Mr Mosley, it's a pleasure to know you
I'm honoured to shake your hand
But those heads taught me something I didn't know
Something that you won't understand
You said I was the poet of the nation
Well, I'm a poet, man, I'm the poet of the constellation
Enoch Powell, he's the man for me
Enoch Powell, he's the man for me
And the pot-head pixies know it
Enoch Powell, space poet