This lady's not for turning when
The country's full of facile men
Who need a woman's touch to teach
Them practice what you darned-well preach.
I'll sort the men out from the boys
And sack the former, make some noise
About our Winter's Discontent
(That Arthur Scargill's heaven-sent).
And what will history make of me?
I reckon it will come to see
That what I did or did not do
Won't cause me much concern, adieu.
Last edited by Royston Vasey; 04-13-2013 at 04:22 PM.
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