Lyrics:

Through clear skies tracking lightly from far down the line No fanfare, just a blip on the screen No quick conclusions now --- everything will be fine Short-circuit glitsch and not what it seems Fylingdale Flyer --- you're only half way there Green screen liar --- for a second or so we were running scared On late shift, feeling drowsy eyes glued to the display Dead cert alert, lit match to the straw One last quick game of bowls --- we can still win the day Fail-safe; forget the things that you saw They checked the systems through and they read A-o.k. Some tiny fuse has probably blown Sit back; relax and soon it will just go away Keep your hands off that red telephone Working John, Working Joe When I was a young man (as all good tales begin) I was taught to hold out my hand And for my pay I worked an honest day and took what pittance I could win Now I'm a working John and I'm a working Joe and I'm doing what I know for God and the Economy Big brother watches over me And the state protects and feeds me And my conscience never leaves me And I'm loyal to the unions who protect me at all levels And as I grew, the winds of fortune blew and the bank smiled down upon me And mortgaged to the hilt I threw the breeze of caution behind me Now I'm a working John and I'm a working Joe and I'm good at what I know And God and the Economy have blessed me with equality Now I'm equal to the best of you And better than the rest of you who would criticise my success in times of national unrest Now I own my horseless carriage in its central-heated garage And I commute eighty miles a day ----