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Margaret Thatcher is now dead, a historical occurrence that many Britons have been celebrating in song for quite some time. Did you also know that many Britons did not care for this woman, this dear old fruit bat Margaret Thatcher? It's quite an amazing phenomenon -- apparently quite a large number of her fellow Limeys have been moping around their islands for decades, seething with rage and hate and wishing, hoping and praying for the day she when she would finally die! And it is here! Above, Elvis Costello promises to be a very good boy, if only to see this day. You made it, Elvis!

The catalogue of "Die, Margaret Thatcher, Die" music is overwhelming. How can one person inspire so much sheer hate? By saying things such as "there is no such thing as society" when you are the human in charge of running it? That is a reason, perhaps.

Next we have the androgynous moody Morrissey chanting "When will you die, when will you die" in the ambivalently asexual droning "Margaret Thatcher on the Guillotine," a typically cheery Morrissey number.

This is gonna be the most danced-upon grave in history! They might as well just pave it over with parquet and prevent the grass from being trampled to smithereens. Or, they should bury her beneath the floor of the Royal Ballet Theater. Efficient!

And who knew, during soccer games, the crowds will often break into a nice little Margaret-inspired chant:

And because this is Wonkette, here is this one:

And because Billy Bragg is a lovable commie union-supporting cockney-Woody Guthrie folk singer type, and she managed to piss him off too, there is this:

To paraphrase an old, old Jewish proverb, you should always conduct yourself in such a way that no one around you in your life ever prays for God to smite you because you are so fucking awful. But this advice comes too late for Margaret Thatcher! Godspeed, Margaret Thatcher.

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