Conservative Songs
L'INTERNATIONALE
The Revised Version
Arise, ye starving Statisticians!
Arise, ye Bureaucratic Clerks!
Arise, Economists, Technicians,
And Synthesists of Ford and Marx!
Arise, all ye Government Inspectors,
Ye Co-Ordinators every man,
Trade Union Leaders and Directors,
For see, the World is yours to Plan!
World-Planners, come rally;
The last Fight let us face!
L'Internationale
Controls the Human Race!
At last Imperfect Competition
Shall yield to Super-State Cartels,
Research, Collation, and Provision,
By hand-picked Academic Swells.
United Nations' Rehabilitation
And Price-Wage Stabilizing Pegs,
Combined with Federalization,
Will set Old Europe on its legs!
Then, Experts, come rally;
The last Graph let us trace!
L'Internationale
Controls the Human Race!
We'll brave the Free-Consumers' rancour,
And all men's purchases arrange
Through Unitas or Keynesitas (or Bancor)
And a Regulated World-Exchange.
Propensity to Maximise Consumption,
Has been latent for a long time past
And with our Administrative Gumption
We'll make this Round Globe rich at last!
Then, Expansionists, come rally;
The last loan let us place!
L'Internationale
Controls the Human Race!
Our scheduled Schemes of Reconstruction,
Our Quotas, Questionnaires, and Doles,
Shall tap Hot Springs of Wealth Production
Under Integrated World-Controls.
As in War we've evolved and fully tried rules
For mastering Monopolies and Mobs,
With our Logarithmic Charts and Slide-rules
We now can all get Cosmic jobs.
Then, Bureaucrats, come rally;
The last Chit let us chace!
L'Internationale
Controls the Human Race!
by 'F.J.O.' collected by F.A. Hayek from an unspecified newspaper.
Published in R.Cockett, Thinking the Unthinkable, (London: Harper Collins, 1994), pp.1-2.
When Everyone is Somebody
by Gilbert & Sullivan
When everyone is somebody
There lived a King, as I've been told,
In the wonder-working days of old,
When hearts were twice as good as gold,
And twenty times as mellow.
Good-temper triumphed in his face,
And in his heart he found a place
For all the erring human race
And every wretched fellow.
When he had Rhenish wine to drink
It made him very saad to think
That some, at junket or at jink,
Must be content with toddy.
He wished all men as rich as he
(And rich he was as rich could be),
So to the top of every tree
Promoted everybody.
Lord Chancellors were cheap as sprats,
And Bishops in their shovel hats
Were as plentiful as tabby cats -
In point of fact, too many.
Ambassadors cropped up like hay,
Prime Ministers and such as they
Grew like asparagus in May,
And Dukes were three a penny.
On every side Field Marshalls gleamed,
Small beer were Lords Lieutant deemed,
With Admirals the ocean teemed
All round his wide dominions.
And Party Leaders you might meet
In twos and threes in every street,
Maintaining, with no little heat,
Their various opinions.
That King, although no one denies
His heart was of abnormal size,
Yet he'd have acted otherwise
If he'd had been acuter.
The end is easily foretold,
When every blessed thing you hold
Is made of silver, or of gold,
You long for simple pewter.
When you have nothing else to wear
But cloth of gold and satins rare,
For cloth of gold you cease to care-
Up goes the price of shoddy.
In short, whoever you may be,
To this conclusion you'll agree,
When everyone is somebodee,
Then no one's anybody!
W.S. Gilbert, The Gondoliers
The Australian Collection
The Balls of Bob Menzies
(Tune: The Bells of Saint Marys)
The balls of Bob Menzies
Are wrinkled and crinkled,
Curvaceous and spacious
As the dome of Saint Paul's.
The crowds they all muster
To gaze at that cluster;
They stand and they stare
At that wonderous pair
Of Bob Menzies' balls, balls, balls, balls,
Bob Menzies' balls.
Popular dirty ditty sung with special emphasis on the word "balls".