I came upon a weather girl, relaxing in her chair,
And a long-forgotten anchor man who hadn’t any hair,
Ah-ha, I said to Wonder Dog, who watched from down below,
I’ve drifted off to Celebland, that’s also called, Hello.
For there are church parades of royals from countries long extinct,
And hordes of minor starlets showing off their kitchen sinks,
A brace of soap and TV stars, a glamour girl or two,
And four-and-twenty TV chefs a-cooking Irish stew.
Oh give to me the Cheshire Cat and not the Cheshire Wives,
A Hatter not from Ascot, the Duchess with her knives,
Not this panoply of boring farts who flock to court our hand,
Oh throw them back and take us down to the forgotten Wonderland.