Oh Heaven help our Linda   She's really done it now   What's more it's all so obvious   I mean her stomachs sticking out   If father tells me' mother   She's bound to have a fit   Followed by a neat convulsion   Thanks to our permissive twit   She thinks his name was Ronald   Or was it Sid or Len   The only thing that's certain   Is that it wasn't Bill or Ben   Our parish priest God bless him   The very reverend Father Pitt   Will no doubt be preaching sermons   To our dear Permissive Twit   By now the word   Will no doubt have been heard   By almost every bleeding nosy parker in our alley   all except that is   Our own great aunt Liz   Who I hear's been deaf since the day our Grace   recorded Sally, Sally, Sally      (Break)      Unless we raise the money   She'll have to let it out   What I mean is she will have to   Have it the right way wrong way about   In other words let nature   Take its course and do its bit   For the sake of those concerned with   Own dear permissive   Dear permissive twit