Our Father,Aneurin Bevan,
Exploded is thy game;
Why,Kingdom come,
Before thy will be done.
Gone N.H.S,Gone Heaven.
Give us fair pay,our daily bread;
Don’t leave us on piece rates,
As we confront those who legislate against us.
And feed us not with deprivation,
But deliver us from Weasels.
For thine was the Fair Game,the Hour and the Story
Maybe once but ever again?
How my heart sings 