{link » The Americans Have Stolen My True Love Away}
Can our American women not keep their grubby hands off those English lads, especially those already spoken for in England? Do we not have enough red-blooded American boys to go around here at home? Must we invade the private reserve of our friends and cousins in Merry ol' England?
First we invade for Iraqi oil. Then we invade for Englishmen. Hang on to your hairy armpits France, we're coming for your women.
“The Americans have stolen my true love awayWell if that don't beat all! Have we no sense of decency, at long last? Here is this sad English lass swimming a breaststroke across the salty Atlantic Ocean to reclaim her man (whom not who "she loves best") from those dastardly Americans who stole him from her.
And I in old England no longer can stay
I will cross the briny ocean all on my sad breast
To find out my true love who [sic] I do love best”
— Sung by Eliza Carthy on her album Rice, with Saul Rose playing melodeon and Ed Boyd guitar
Can our American women not keep their grubby hands off those English lads, especially those already spoken for in England? Do we not have enough red-blooded American boys to go around here at home? Must we invade the private reserve of our friends and cousins in Merry ol' England?
First we invade for Iraqi oil. Then we invade for Englishmen. Hang on to your hairy armpits France, we're coming for your women.
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