| Kicking at the gates like I’m an urban guerrilla
|
| And going for the victory like the Thrilla in Manila
|
| We’re a nation of shoplifters, we’re druggies, petty crooks
|
| This has to be our style, we haven’t horsey looks
|
| It’ll be funky
|
| It’ll be funky, yeah
|
| It’ll be funky
|
| Queenie’s feeling meanie, and we’ve seen her get her cash taxed
|
| Can’t hear the jeers, they fear she needs her ears waxed
|
| Chuckie’s riding bareback, but only playing polo
|
| It’s no-go with the misses, and now he’s going solo
|
| Charlie’s lost his marlies, he used to be a pillar
|
| Before he got busted and lusted for Camilla
|
| Squidgy getting fidgety at home, all alone
|
| And Gilbey, we know he’ll be shortly answering the phone
|
| The family, the family
|
| The family horribilus
|
| The family, the family
|
| The suitors are all looters and they’re closing in on Fergie
|
| Their game was fame, but now they’ve got the lurgy
|
| The family’s expandin' and everyone’s a stand-in
|
| A palace full of malice as everybody’s crammed in
|
| As Lizzie’s getting older, over shoulder, there’s a rival
|
| Dizzy Di is busy sowing the seeds of survival
|
| You wanna sow some seeds? |
| Well, get on your tractor
|
| And get Eddie out of bed or he’ll never make an actor
|
| It’ll be funky
|
| It’ll be funky, yeah
|
| It’ll be funky
|
| The royals are spreading like boils, it does your head in
|
| We have no choice, we’re invoiced for the weddings
|
| It’s like a soap, a Dallas or a Dynasty
|
| We live in hope to put 'em out their misery
|
| Fire the freaky family, we’re tired of the cheek
|
| As you holiday your life away, our futures look bleak
|
| As your castle’s burning down, you want the people to pay for it
|
| Ask us to defend you, we’ve got nothing to say for it
|
| The family, the family
|
| The family horribilus
|
| The family, the family
|
| Kicking at the gates like we think we’re on the guest list
|
| We’re told to wait, too late, we’re getting restless
|
| The crowd is swellin' as they’re smellin' the thrill
|
| There’s dancing in the rubble and there’s trouble at the mill
|
| There’s warning of the storming, news of the resistance
|
| The peasants are revolting, advancing from the distance
|
| There’s panic and there’s anarchy and breaking the rules
|
| They’re making fake money and they’re taking the jewels
|
| What will it be? |
| Funky!
|
| What will it be? |
| Funky!
|
| What will it be? |
| Funky!
|
| What will it be? |
| Funky!
|
| All without a fuss, the coup has been victorious
|
| The banners wave, proclaiming annus glorious
|
| What will it be? |
| Funky!
|
| What will it be? |
| Funky!
|
| What will it be? |
| Funky!
|
| What will it be? |
| Funky!
|
| It’ll be funky
|
| It’ll be funky, yeah
|
| It’ll be funky
|
| It’ll be funky, yeah |