Henry's Songbook

Son of mine, tell me why are you sighing
What worries and cares are you hiding
Father, the whole world is dying
It's crying but no one pays heed

Oh but son, there are people in places
Though we don't know their names or their faces
Still, we're safe in their wealthy embraces
They call them, the bulldog breed

They are the men at the top, my son, they're the bulldog breed
They are the cream of the crop, my son, they're the bulldog breed
They're better than you or than me, my son, the bulldog breed
They're genuine top pedigree, my son, they're the bulldog breed

Ah but Father, these people you mention
There's a lot you can do in prevention
To stop all this death and starvation
If they're so good, surely they'll know

Son, they're working for Queen and for Country
They're too busy to tend all and sundry
Some are born to suffer, go hungry
My son, it has always been so

But never the men at the top, my son, not the bulldog breed
They are the cream of the crop, my son, they're the bulldog breed
And they're better than you or than me, my son, they're the bulldog breed
And they're genuine top pedigree, my son, they're the bulldog breed

Ah but Father, there must be a lesson
There's a darkness on every horizon
Death, air and sea full of poison
Before long mankind will be dead

Son, I want to hear no more discussion
Can't you stop this fretting and fussing
All this talk here of death and destruction
Tell me who put these thoughts in your head

It's from watching the men at the top, old man - the bulldog breed
And they are the ones we must stop, old man - the bulldog breed
They're no better than you or than me, old man - the bulldog breed
But that's something you'll never see, old man of the bulldog breed

As sung by Iain MacKintosh