Home (feat. Charlotte Nicdao, Rob Paulsen, Roddy Hart & Thomas David Reilly)

We can take in the sights
Trendy, slick and expensive
Tell me, Pinky, now when did you
Last see the London sky?
We could visit Big Ben
Or Tower Bridge, what a wonder
Then bend over and chunder up
Our steak and kidney pie

But the food's so bad
It's always dense and it tastes like glue
Here where the words are lies
They say chips are fries
And call ev'rything pudding

No it's not home
(They call zucchini 'courgettes')
There's not a single kangaroo
(And a jumper's a sweater)

They tell me all day long
I don't belong
And now I have to wonder if
That's true

The weather is awfully cold
And all the museums are boring
In football there's not enough scoring
And the drinks are served lukewarm

No, it's not home
It's not the place that we always knew
Here where the lines are queues
And bathrooms are loos
And trucks are all named "Laurie"

So let's go home
(Does that mean all trucks are girls?)
There's nothing much here left to see
(So I guess all cars are boys, then)

I'll just buy a souvenir
From this hemisphere
And return to the place I'm meant to be
And I know that he'll agree