It’s all these bloomin’ gorei!

The Yankees and the Brits

They colonised the Muslim world

And made us look like twits!

They used us for their World Wars

They stripped our lands of riches

They left us fighting like hyenas

Then watched us fight, in stitches

But they did give us their passports

And let us emigrate

We settled in their towns and vales

And we made it rich and great

But ‘O! these bloomin’ gorei

The Yankees and the Brits

They still seek to divide us all

Like we’re complete nitwits

It’s all these bloomin’ Gorei

The English and Americans

They fought their war on terror

Leaving us like a bunch of lemons

Although we have still lived here

And no-one’s thrown us out

We still build our schools and mosques

Which UKIP hate no doubt

But O! These bloomin gorei

You can’t really trust them

On your face it’s human rights

But behind your back- they’re hell!

It’s all these wretched Gorei

The Yankee and Brits

And you can add the Aussies

And the Kiwis and the Yids

They treat us like we’re vermin

They ridicule our faith

They don’t respect our culture

And they think we’re an inferior race

But they do lap up our curry

They savour our kebabs

We got rich driving them in cabs

They think our food is fab

We have made hundreds of mosques

Some from pubs and churches

We got madrasahs and our sheikhs

Which please our Islamic urges

Thousands of us treat their ills

As doctors in the NHS

We’re teachers in their secondary schools

We don’t just clean their mess

But ‘O! these bloomin’ gorei

The Yankees and the Brits

One day they’ll throw us out for good

One day they’ll throw a fit

And when we’re back in Pakistan

Back in the Muslim world

Perhaps the Gorei will miss us all

Perhaps they’ll have a ball

Perhaps there’s some who’ll miss us

Perhaps it’s our attitude

Perhaps we let the minority’s hate

Misrepresent the multitude

Perhaps we just need to appreciate

Our comrades in humanity

Perhaps all our resentment

Is just plain old insanity

Perhaps the gorei after all

Are really just like us

Perhaps we’ve let smatterings of hate

Cause in us such fuss

Perhaps we all need to chill it out

And make peace our insistence

The gorei like our curry and rice

And we like they’re queuing system