Granny Farming in the Uk

There's twenty five tunes on the visitors bell
 From Granny Farming In The UK
 To Heartbreak Hotel
 And there's eight million stories of cruelty to tell
 As the medicine goes down
 There's one currant bun in the baker's shop
 Who's beaten like an egg till he bruises like an apricot
 Squeezed between the legs and strangled
 With a football sock
 And the medicine goes down
 And it's as clear as a bell and the colour of your cheeks
 And the piss awful smell of the blankets and the sheets
 This ain't no charabanc, no Derby and Joan
 And this place is no place like home
 And the nurses will hold you and ask you how you feel
 But it's back to the dole queue for any of them who squeal
 From Granny Farming In The UK to Heartbreak Hotel
 There's twenty five tunes on the visitors bell
 No letters, no postcards, no whisky, no pets
 No Derby and Joan club and no cigarettes
 No day trips to the seaside, no nights on the town
 No boiled beef and carrots and the medicine goes down
 No handles on the windows, no lights on the stairs
 It's way past your bedtime and nobody cares
 From Granny Farming In The UK to Heartbreak Hotel
 There's twenty five tunes on the visitors bell
 And the post man rings twice
 With a telegram from the Queen
 Your legs turn to red to amber and green
 Your heart jumps the lights and you fall to the ground
 And your death is the talk of the town