Author: protestfamily

The world's favourite east London semi-acoustic political sing along folk punk group.

Tina and My Pillow Guy

Tina believed the Big Lie
Now Tina’s gonna have to let time go by
‘Cause Tina broke in to the voting machine
To try to prove that Donald’s hands were clean
But Donald’s hands are dirty as hell
Now Tina’s hands are dirty as well
Now Tina’s gonna have to let time go by
‘Cause Tina believed the Big Lie….(and My Pillow Guy)

Tina and My Pillow Guy
Tina and My Pillow Guy (and the Big Lie)
Tina and My Pillow Guy
Will have to say goodbye

Tina believed in My Pillow Guy
Now Tina’s gonna have to let time go by
‘Cause Tina broke into the voting machine
To try to prove that Donald’s hands were clean
But Donald’s hands are dirty as hell
And Mike’s hands are dirty as well
Now Tina’s gonna have to let time go by
‘Cause Tina believed in My Pillow Guy

Tina and My Pillow Guy
Tina and My Pillow Guy (and the Big Lie)
Tina and My Pillow Guy
Will have to say goodbye

by Categories: Lyrics, SteveTags: , , , , , Leave a comment

Tina and the Big Lie

Tina believed the Big Lie
Now Tina’s gonna have to let time go by
Tina broke into the voting machine
To try to prove that Donald’s hands were clean
But Donald’s hands are dirty as hell
Now Tina’s hands are dirty as well
And Tina’s gonna have to let time go by
‘Cause Tina believed the Big Lie

(Full story)

by Categories: poetry, SteveTags: , , , , , Leave a comment

The Emperor’s New Clothes

A cloth so fine I’ll weave for you
The great and good can only view
The likes of which you’ve never seen
And best of all the suit is free

You’ll have clothes like no one else
The best of everything he sells
The people they will never see
And best of all, the suit is free

Meet the new boss, same as the old boss
Wearing the same invisible cloth

The people look, the people stare
From Clacton to Trafalgar Square
The people look, the people stare
But they all know there’s nothing there

The bobbin span, the shuttle flew
The sick, he said, have work to do
The finest cloth is meant for me
And best of all, the suit is free

The finest cloth on the machine
Though there was nothing to be seen
No marvel that his eye could see
But nonetheless the suit was free

Meet the new boss, same as the old boss
Meet the new boss, same as the old boss
Wearing the same invisible cloth

The people look, the people stare
From Clacton to Trafalgar Square
The people look, the people stare
But they all know there’s nothing there

Tough choices, did he have the spine
To say I see no cloth so fine
The cloth the great and good could see
But best of all the suit was free

Tough choices, but you know the rest
The cloth, he said, was of the best
The cloth the great and good could see
But best of all the suit was free

Meet the new boss, same as the old boss
Meet the new boss, same as the old boss
Meet the new boss, same as the old boss
Wearing the same invisible cloth

The people look, the people stare
From Clacton to Trafalgar Square
The people look, the people stare
But they all know there’s nothing there

The people look, the people stare
From Clacton to Trafalgar Square
The people look, the people stare
But they all know there’s nothing there

They all know the king is bare

by Categories: Lyrics, SteveTags: , , , , , Leave a comment

Sir Kier’s New Clothes

A cloth so beautiful, he said
I’ll weave for you, Sir Kier
That to the simple or unfit
Invisible ‘t will appear

These splendid clothes, I just must have
What do they cost, pray tell
To you it’s free, the Baron said
‘N’ I’ll dress your wife as well

He set up looms and set to work
Weaving night and day
And yet the golden thread they brought
He simply put away

Kier sent a spad to view the cloth
It’s gorgeous, he announced
Seeing nothing, but for fear
That he might be denounced

His Chief of Staff gave equal praise
Lest she be seen unfit
The most magnificent I’ve seen
Was all she dared submit

And so, Sir Kier came to view
This cloth beyond compare
The best design I ever wove
The Baron did declare

It surely is, Sir Kier agreed
Though there was nowt to see
Neither simple nor unfit
Could he be seen to be

So pleased he seemed that no one dared
To baulk or disagree
And the Baron was rewarded
With a Westminster Palace key

He sewed all night by candlelight
His scissors keen and steady
Cut unseen cloth, and as dawn broke
He cried, Kier’s suit is ready

Your trousers, he presented
Your jacket and your tie
So light, like wearing nothing
Oh, how splendid, the reply

Upon the people, he processed
How beautiful, they cooed
And not a soul dared suggest
Sir Kier was in the nude

Until a child’s voice, young Owen
The crowd all heard his call
Sir Kier, I declare is wearing
Not a thing at all

Listen to the child, they said
Sir Kier’s glamour gone
But there was nothing for it
So, he, naked, just marched on

by Categories: poetry, SteveTags: , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Spaceship Tax

He’s got his own spaceship
Says he’s going to race it
All the way to Mars
Build houses for billionaires and superstars

He’s got his own spaceship
‘Cause he’s just a rich git
Think it should be ours
Not just for billionaires and superstars

(Here we go)

100% 100%
100% (Without consent)
100% (Take it to the max)
100%…
Spaceship tax

He’s got his own space rocket
Looks like a cock, it’s
On the way to Mars
With billionaire spacemen and superstars

He’s got his own space rocket
Surplus value in his pocket
Think it should be ours
Not just for billionaires and superstars

(Here we go)

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

100% 100%
100% 100%
100%…
Spaceship tax

by Categories: SteveTags: , , , , , Leave a comment

PMQ’s in His Underpants

Kier’s half-naked and freezing
There is no budget for clothes
PMQ’s in his underpants
And even his wife bought those

Nobody thought to tell him
There’s no shirts on the public purse
You need a rich donor for clothing
Or it’s just boxers or worse

Kier’s half-naked and freezing
Because of the bribe he ignored
PMQ’s in his underpants
It’s all the clothes we can afford

by Categories: poetry, SteveTags: , , , , , Leave a comment

A Two Grand Hat

A two grand hat made out of bears
Is what the British foot guard wears
It’s stupid, cruel, just not funny
And a massive waste of money

While Rachel says we can’t afford
For winter fuel to be restored
And Auntie freezes in her flat
The guardsman wears a two grand hat

A two grand hat made out of bears
Hunted, shot and trapped in snares
Stupid, cruel and just not funny
And makes guards faint when it gets sunny

by Categories: poetry, SteveTags: , , , , , , 1 Comment

Pickles

Dickens might’ve written him
The people ain’t forgiven him
And here he is
Large as lives
Blunt as knives
Doesn’t care who lives or dies
Has important meetings
And you’re keeping him from eating
He’s only gonna give you up ‘til lunch

Dickens might’ve written him
Cameron permitted him
And here he is
Large as death
Of wicked heft
Foul contempt upon his breath
Too important to be here
Which he’s making very clear
You’ll not stop him leaving for his lunch

Dickens might’ve written him
The truth has still not bitten him
And here he is
Large as prayers
Cold as cares
Dare scrutinise his affairs
His shield of importance
Bearing dents from this performance
Looks like he’s gonna have to miss his lunch

by Categories: poetry, SteveTags: , , Leave a comment

Pickles

Pickles is late for his lunch
As his tummy rumbling
Testy testimony testifies
He doesn’t really care who dies
It’s a numbers game
With minions to blame
And so long as business
Can do business
Unimpeded by the need
To keep folk safe
From corporate greed
He’ll be grand
Baron, as he is
Of this green and pleasant land

Pickles is late for his lunch
And he doesn’t care
For this line, laying bare
His disregard for public safety
When the job’s to shrink the state
He’s totally on board
The reward
A seat in the Lords
Where there’s Wednesday prayers
For billionaires

Pickles is late for his lunch
And ready to bail
He’s late for his tucker
Let’s chuck the fucker
In jail

by Categories: poetry, SteveTags: , , Leave a comment