(Verse)
Lord Elderly, Lord Borrowmere
Lord Sickert and Lord Camp
Behold us in our hours of ease
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please
Reading in Debrett of us
This fine patrician quartet of us
We can feel extremely proud
Our ancient lineage we can trace
Back to the cradle of the race
Before those beastly roman bowmen
Bitched our local yeomen
Though the new democracy
May pain the old aristocracy
We've not winced nor cried aloud
Under the bludgeonings of chance what will be, will be
Our heads will still be
Bloody but quite unbowed

(Chorus 1)
The stately homes of England
In valley, dale, and glen
Produce a race of charming
Innocuous young men
Though our mental equipment may be slight
And we barely distinguish left from right
We are quite prepared to fight
For our principles
Though none of us know so far
What they really are
Our duty to the nation
It's only fair to state
Lies not in procreation
But what we procreate
And so we can cry
With kindling eye
As to married life we go
What ho
For the stately homes of England
(Chorus 2)
The stately homes of England
Although a trifle bleak
Historically speaking
Are more or less unique
We've a cousin who won the Golden Fleece
And a very peculiar fowling piece
Which was sent to Cromwell's niece
Who detested it
And rapidly sent it back
With a dirty crack
A note we have from Chaucer
Contains a bawdy joke
We also have a saucer
That Bloody Mary broke
We've two pairs of tights
King Arthur's knights
Had completely worn away
Sing hey
For the stately homes of England