Under the Baseball Cap

There's a kind of you know what I mean a sort of great big blob
Where forty watts of braincell drives 50 megawatts of gob
Close by a burned out mattress lie 20 number six
Bull terrier straining at the leash where ignorance is bliss
We don't need no education where the cat shat on the mat
It's welcome to the wasteland under the baseball cap

We've got lager we've got Big Macs, we've got putty in our 'eads
Shouting "yeah, gutted eh!" or "shut it or you're dead!"
Screaming down our mobiles like Americans on TV
Feet up on the table that's the way life ought to be
The world is just our ashtray, our dinner on our lap
Here lies Merry England under the baseball cap

Under the baseball cap, under the baseball cap,
Here lies Merry England under the baseball cap

Well we used to wield the spraycan to let you know where we've bin
Aerosols with pimples and bumfluff on our chins,
'til we got our Ford Fiestas, boy racers down the club
On a Saturday Night with a "dumph, dumph, dumph" and a "rub-a-dub-dub"
Evolution's going backwards,we're living proof of that fact
It's effin' this and effin' that under the baseball cap

Under the baseball cap ( + last line of verse)

Well, with our shell suits and our trainers
We're off to sunny Spain.
Off to the Costa Plonka to get pissed out of our brain
"In't yer got no chips, Manuel ?" bog seat round our 'ead
Belching and Farting like a good 'un loud enough to wake the dead
Bolts through the neck, between the ears a gap
It's off we go to fight the foe under the baseball cap

Under the baseball cap (+ last line of verse)
repeat twice.