They're Moving Father's Grave

They're moving father's grave to build a sewer;
They're doing it regardless of expense.
They've dug up his remains to put in five-inch drains
Just to irrigate some posh bloke's residence.

Now what's the use of having a religion
If when you're dead your troubles never cease?
Because some bloody fool wants a pipeline to his stool,
They won't let poor old father rest in peace.

Now father, in his day, was not a quitter,
And I don't suppose he'll be a quitter now.
He'll dress up in a sheet and he'll haunt the privy seat,
And nobody will sit he don't allow.

Now won't there be some blooming consternation,
And won't those city toffs just rant and rave?
Which is less than they deserve, for they had the bleeding nerve
To muck around with a British workman's grave.