How many gunshots will it take for you
To dismantle your pride
And take your pistol out of your own mouth,
Lay it on the side,
And call it illegal?

And is it true that, while I let letter boxes
Give me love-bites,
You just throw newspapers into front gardens
And hope the headlines creep in
Under the doors and through the keyholes
Or is that just in Hollywood?

Your diversity is incredible,
Vivacious and arching as a rainbow
Or a spice rack
But isn’t is sometimes sad to know
That, by your vastness,
You can stand in Kansas
And never see the sea?

Why do you desperately chase after
Our accents and pedestal the concept
Of Afternoon tea?
As I recall you were less fond
Of us and our tea leaves
Back in Boston, 1773
And while I'm at it
Could you clarify what part of Britain
Your British Accent comes from?