I sit- here as for 20 years I've sat- wearing my music critic's hat
I mean, it's clearly not an actual hat- it's metaphorical
And in those 20 years I'm sad- to say these wondrous promenades
Have gone from bad to worse to bad- to pretty crap, to bloody horrible

I admit, I'm a bit of a classical music boffin
And although I've said this often
The final nail in the coffin
Of these Proms is surely imminent
Yes, we survived Nigel effing Kennedy
But surely there's no earthly remedy
For a night of so-called comedy
Hostеd by an immigrant

Why they insist on this tosh it's a mystery
Classical music and laughter don't mix you see
Onе hundred and sixty years of history
Tossed away for a cheap guffaw
One of our nation's finest traditions
Some of our country's finest musicians
Forced into humiliating positions
Is nothing sacred anymore?

Classical music should always be
Performed, well, you know, classically
With suitably solemn solemnity
And usually in- three four two three one two three
Now we have this, this "comedy prom"
It's all boom-tish and pom pom pom
What are these BBC idiots on?
Is nothing sacred anymore?
I remember, it seems like yesterday
Watching the greats who'd come to play
It was so magical and gay
Back when gay meant something good
I wish that I were back there once again
When the orchestras were made of men
And some patience and a penny
Could give you Henry Wood
(You would get Wood)

Oh, what Henry Wood would think
If only Henry Wood could think
Though he's extinct
He would have died if he had seen this
Endless rhymes and dirty puns
People drumming with their tongues
They think it's funny- forcing divas to sing "penis"

Pe-- nis Pe-- nis Pe-- nis Pe-- nis
Pe-- nis Pe-- nis Pe-- ni-
Get off!
Penis boffins for opera!

I remember, it seems like yesterday
When conductors were bearded and grey
This little twerp is not yet shaving
Or even looking at the score
Is nothing sacred anymore?
We used to care about the art
I mean, honestly
Look at this violinist's chart
It actually says "fart"
Is nothing sacred anymore?
So nothing's sacred anymore?
The stories that inspired the greats of yore
Sin, redemption and the Lord
Heaven's glory and hell's fires
The battle of the light against the dark
The timeless narratives that drove Mozart and boring Bach
We no longer give a f'aahh
'cause nothing's sacred, praise the Lord


I reckon that it's time to start a new tradition
Something designed for us comic musicians
We'll do it every year at the comedy prom
It'll be our ritual from now on
At the end of the night
Right, listen up
Before they kick us out, stop packing up
I reckon all you peasants in the cheap seats
Should take off your clothes and writhe naked on the floor
While a member of the royal family plays the tune to doctor who on a Keytar