They'll write of you in the history books
You and your day of shame,
Son of an honest worker
You have disgraced your name.
They say "Forget it, it's in the past"
That sad day in November,
Your treachery is with us still
The people will remember.
Democracy was dealt a blow
The people were betrayed,
By Barwick, Kerr and Fraser,
And the bargain that was made.
So don your tall silk hat Sir John
Strut in your foolish pride,
Forget that you are a worker's son
Sell out to the other side.
I wonder if you feel Sir John
A twinge of conscience yet,
I don't suppose that you ever will,
But the people will not forget.
When future generations read
Of you and your scurvy set,
They'll also, I hope, be glad to know
That the people will not forget.