Sung to the tune of the red flag
The Taxman’s task is deepest red
It takes even from our martyred dead
And ere their limbs grew stiff and cold
To pay taxes their estate is sold
Chorus
They raise the standard rate so high
Crushed by its hold we live and die
Though bludgers flinch and socialists sneer
We’ll stop the tax rate rising here
It stands above our infants slight
Making times ahead seem dark as night
It caused many to curse and cry
Such misery we can’t deny
Chorus
It foils repeats of triumphs past
It ends the hope of more wealth at last
The colour bright, the outcome plain
More human misery and an end to gain
Chorus
With hearts uncovered swear we all
To struggle onward to tax rates fall
Come dungeons dark or progressives grim
End taxes shall be our parting hymn