We're listening for the sleigh bells.
We're looking for the sleigh.
We hope this special person comes in time for Christmas Day.
Let's join in the magic of Christmas make believe.
Who do we all want to see on Christmas Eve?
Ann Widdecombe, Ann Widdecombe, that's who we want to see. (We agree)
Not Santa Claus, not Zoe Ball, not William Hague. He's too vague. (He is quite vague).
Who's the girl that gets us giddy? Eyes so blue and shoes so diddy.
Who's our favourite Tory biddy? (Hmm)
Give me A-N-N and E. W-I and double D. E-C-O-M-B-E spells Widdecombe.
By day, I'm the shadow home secretary.
But hey, deep down, you know there's so much more to me.
Ann Widdecombe, Ann Widdecombe, I sing, I dance, I lean to the light.
I'm truculent, I'm succulent, I am a star. (Yes you are, by gum you are).
We'll gather round to the festive sound of the carols of a distant choir.
As we raise a toast, what will we roast on the embers of an open fire?
(Ann Widdecombe, Ann Widdecombe) I'm like the suits I wear.
Unsquashable, unwashable, I can't relax, when in slacks.
As the children dream of a reindeer team and a figure in a coat of red.
Dare we divulge what is that bulge at the bottom of the children's bed?
It's Widdecombe, Ann Widdecombe.
I'm firm but fair and cool as a rule.
My gnattiness, my battiness, men can't resist.
Is she pissed? (She's round the twist.)
As the snowflakes fall and the neighbours call like the Christmases in days of Yore.
As they ring our bell, what will they smell coming through the open door?
Ann Widdecombe, Ann Widdecombe,
I'm woman through and through. (This is true)
Exuberant, protuberant, I inspire lust with my bust.
I'm not that fussed.
We'll start the lunch and we'll serve hot punch to the singers in the snowy drive.
And who's not chuffed to be plucked and stuffed and done at gas mark five?
Ann Widdecombe, Ann Widdecombe,
The people's chum, the bells of Christmas ring. (Ding-a-ding)
Inflackable, unsackable, is what it's thought of? (needs fixing)
Do-re-me-so-fa-so-fa-so-fa.
Do-re-me-so-faaaaaaaaa.
Ta