Brezhnev took Afghanistan
 and Begin took [bad word]  Galtieri took the Union Jack
 and Maggie, over lunch one day
 took a [bad word]  with all hands
 apparently to make him give it back

 Take all your overgrown infants away somewhere 
 And build them a home, a little place of their own. 
 The Fletcher Memorial Home for Incurable Tyrants and Kings. 

 They can appear to themselves every day 
 On closed circuit T.V. 
 To make sure they're still real. 
 It's the only connection they feel. 
 "Ladies and gentlemen, please [bad word]  Reagan and Haig, 
 Mr. Begin and friend, Mrs. Thatcher and Paisly, 
 "Hello Maggie!" 
 Mr. Brezhnev and party. 
 "Who's the bald chap?" 
 The ghost of McCarthy, 
 And the memories of Nixon. 
 "Good-bye!" 
 And now, adding colour, a group of anonymous latin- 
 American Meat packing glitterati. 

 Did they expect us to treat them with any respect? 
 They can polish their medals and sharpen their smiles, 
 And amuse themselves playing games for awhile. 
 Boom boom, bang bang, lie down you're dead. 

 Safe in the permanent gaze of a cold glass eye 
 their favourite toy 
 They'll be good girls and boys 
 In the Fletcher Memorial Home for colonial Wasters of life and limb. 

 Is everyone in? 
 Are you having a nice time? 
 Now the final solution can be applied.