Cud Syrup And Sour Grapes
There's no justice no more
It's the feeling that counts
And it's the job of the judge
To fix the amounts
There's no justice no more
It's the feeling that counts
And the job of the judge
Is to fix the amounts
[Repeat]
With money you're a yacht with a following breeze
With money you've got Lady Luck on her knees
Poets, singers, critics all say you're great
In front of a judge, Perry Mason's second rate
What use are laws where money is king?
Where poverty is useless and can't fix a thing?
Even cynics who sneer are rarely averse
To turning their scruples to fill up their purse
There's no justice no more
It's the feeling that counts
And it's the job of the judge
To fix the amounts
There's no justice no more
It's the feeling that counts
And the job of the judge
Is to fix the amounts
[Repeat]
If you profit the accounts of HRH Spencer
Then Charlie and her father are sure to dispense her
You can marry Diana with cash on the nail
And make her and her father believe the same tale
You can prove, disprove, be a lawyer of note
Whose cases are vital for textbooks to quote
Whatever you wish for, if you can disburse
Will be yours if you've got a wad in your purse
There's no justice no more
It's the feeling that counts
And it's the job of the judge
To fix the amounts
There's no justice no more
It's the feeling that counts
And the job of the judge
Is to fix the amounts
[Repeat]
I've always been told that the prettiest lasses
Come from the up- and upper-middle classes
You say, you're somewhat overrated
And mean your ilk are rather obvious to me
