By popular demand, the full lyrics: Packets of butter and cheeses and hams All should be purchased in pounds and not grams And as for kilometres, I've often thought They'd like to be miles, but they're too bloody short. Chorus: Three pounds of pumpkin, two inches of rain, A gallon of beer and a bushel of grain, A six furlong race round the old Randwick track: Bring the Imperial measurements back. All cricket pitches should measure a chain; Metric conversion is simply insane: Give back our pint, fluid ounces and quarts! Metrics are nothing but fly spots and noughts. Chorus Kick the conversion board hard in the pants; Take up a collection and send them to France. Hands off that hundredweight! don't touch that ton! Who damn well asked them to do what they've done? Chorus They foisted it on us in usual style, We gave them an inch and they've taken a mile. Milli-milli-milli-metres: now that's a French farce And hectares especially are a pain in the arse. Chorus This bloke at the gas company weighed fifteen stone, Six foot of manhood, all muscle and bone. Fate sent a metre down onto his head, "Murdered by metrics!" the coroner said. Chorus The tune, as I mentioned earlier, is Dreary Black Hills, which is easy accessed on the net. Nigel, I also had "My Favorite Things" running through my head as I read the lyrics.
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