They're moving father's grave to build a sewer
They're moving it regardless of expense.
They're moving his remains to lay down nine-inch
drains

To irrigate some rich bloke's residence.
Now what's the use of having a religion?
If when you're dead you cannot get some peace
'Cause some society chap wants a pipeline to his
tank
And moves you from your place of rest and peace...
Now father in his life was not a quitter
And I'm sure that he'll not be a quitter now.
And in his winding sheet, he will haunt that privy
seat
And only let them go when he'll allow.
Now won't there be some bleedin' consternation,
And won't those city toffs begin to rave!
But it's no more than they deserve, 'cause they had
the bleedin' nerve
To muck about a British workman's grave.
Note: A classic epic of the class struggle