Let’s hear it for Bobby Mugabe
Oppressed by the weight of the world
His skin is as tough as awabi
His top lip is cheerfully curled
His country is starving, it’s skin and it’s bone
But Bobby Mugabe looks after his own
Let’s hear it for Bobby Mugabe
Run down by the civilised west
He’s older than Joan, and than Darby
But always looks perfectly dressed
Inflation is rampant, economy bust
But Bobby Mugabe’s a man you can trust
Let’s hear it for Bobby Mugabe
Whose ego’s the size of a saint
Who’s as swollen as swede or kohlrabi
And crisp as a new coat of paint
His farms are in ruins, his crops are neglected
But Bobby Mugabe is always elected
Let’s hear it for Bobby Mugabe
With his barrows of new-printed cash
(Which you might as well burn on a barbie) –
And doesn’t he cut a great dash?
His women die off when they reach thirty-four
But Bobby Mugabe’s a Master of Law
Let’s hear it for Bobby Mugabe
And his carnival Zanu-PF
Let’s hear it for Bobby Mugabe
I’m sorry? What, are you all deaf?
Look at his lashes, all covered with grief
Cheer Bobby Mugabe, beyond all belief