Left my home in Kabul, Afghanistan, Stansted on my mind.
Picked up all of my 13 cousins – can’t leave them behind!
Got through customs with no problems, thanks to my darling wife.
Gave her all the grenades and handguns and said:“Guard them with your life.”
Straight through the checkpoint down on the tarmac, flight ticket in my hand,
Then I woke up high over Eastern Europe on a jet to the Promised Land.

Working on a curry and an onion bhaji heading down to the Euro state,
When the pilot told us in 13 minutes we’d be standing at the terminal gate.
Swing low chariot, come down easy, taxi to the terminal zone.
Cut your engines and cool your wings while I get on the mobile phone.
Cellnet, get me Kabul, Afghanistan, four-four-zero-nine,
Tell the folks back home this is the Promised Land calling, and Iqbal’s on the line.

Hey Mr. Straw, show some compassion! Call off the SAS!
All we’re asking is a booked appointment at the nearest DSS!
Staying at the Hilton in the bridal suite me and Fatima’s doing grand.
Tell the folks back home it only costs £12.50 to get to the Promised Land!