Poetry Corner---On Her Majesty's Secret Service

I always thought it was a terrible problem that the theme for On Her Majesty’s Secret Service didn’t have lyrics, so I made up some, which I’m posting here. If you feel moved to sing them aloud, you should do it in a whiny nasal northeastern accent, and when you come to the words chick and tit, you should pronounce them with as much aching never-to-be-assuaged horniness as possible. Here goes:


James Bond
He comes from across the pond
All hot chicks
Of James Bond are really fond
He can shoot
Even when he’s on skis
And he does it with
E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ease!.

He’s the guy
Who parachutes from the sky
When he lands
He foils the Master Plan
Blofeld flees on his little monorail
When Bond breaches their sanctums
Cat-fancying scumbags all bail!

James Bond
License to ki-hi-hill!
With other guys
Footing the bill!
He gets to buy drinks
And he gets to dri—ink them!

He’s one Brit
Who takes not a bit of shit
He trots the world
And sees more than one great tit.
In outer space
Or deep underneath the sea
James Bond is the man-god that
This itchy git want to be!

James Bond
James Bond
James Bond

The Pond
The Pond
The Pond

James Bond
James Bond
James Bond

Double-O Seven!