Come, friendly buzzards, and shit on Slough!
It isn't fit for red kites now,
There isn't kebab to graze a crow.
Swarm over, Bird!
But spare the chimneys of Didcot
The steam they smoked but now do not;
It's not their fault they are not bright,
They've tasted shite.
Come, friendly buzzards and nest in Slough
To get it ready for the plough.
The audaxers are coming now;
Their farts exhale.