The Ministry of Bag - Jack Bruce

It’s all blues and no dinner

At the Ministry of Bag

The steaks are getting thinner

The office is a drag

It’s all hills and no mountain

In the cupboard of the Few

The soda has no fountain

The coal gets in the dew

It’s all chief and no father

Down the avenue of lane

The soap has lost its lather

The loves gone down the drain

It’s all time and no future

At the Department of Breath

The clothes ain’t made to suit you

The peas are boiled to death

It’s hang the girls and young men

On the ropes of tweedy mind

The speedy sneaky tonguemen

Have left them all behind

It’s all tripe and no liver

At the cafe of the Neat

The cooks jumped in the river

The menu smells of feet

It’s all swamp and no mosquitoes

Along the stripes of pin

The boots have all the vetoes

And the bags to put them in

It’s all blues and no dinner

At the Ministry of Bag

The steaks are getting thinner

The office is a drag