“Song of the Clairefontaine Student” - words by John Turnbull, sung to the tune of 'Song of the English Volunteer' – music by Howard Goodall
At Clairefontaine they're warming up!
A sneaky fag, a coffee cup -
a “hara” rooted in the ground -
an angry goose, a strangled sound
of "fiestra!" in the circle round;
"mosquitoes" buzzing all around!
At Clairefontaine they're working now!
They're relocating, "heart and soul",
They're gender-bending:- "Old Queen Cole"!
Another class, and don't be late!
There's nothing on my dinner plate
An empty soup dish, and a roll!
Oh Graeme, I'd like to sing for you;
my palate's raised, as soft as vache qui rit!
but "harmony", I think you said
you must be off your bloody head!
Oh Graham, the breathing's gone to pot,
And tuneful I am not!
At Clairefontaine they're injured now!
their eyes are bloodshot, legs are bent,
and though they danced with good intent
they've broken arms, their muscles rent,
they're sitting in the excrement!
and that's not really what he meant!
Oh Graeme, I'd like to sing for you!
"the Man who Thought" that F sharp was a G!
the notes are wrong, the rhythm's out,
the timing's gone right up the spout
but Graeme, in Clairefontaine we're free!
and here's where I must be!