In the land of Gog, Magog
None goes Nod, none runs amok
None save the many few who
Touch the Stuff of pretty blue
In the land of North and South
Nice work that bloomin plaster
Not quite happy ever after
But write it down, at least we do
In ways that only novelists do
Worlds apart we inhabit
Not quite shared but there you have it
We admit it, at least we do
In the land of East and West
A Union put to the test
Still, we look there for the best
We sing their songs, at least we do.
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