Author: protestfamily

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

The King’s Piss

Charlie’s struggling to piss
How did it come to this?
I should be pissing like a king
A king’s piss should be an impressive thing
A porcelain smashing
Splattering, crashing stream
In a magnificent cloud of steam
On these cold mornings
In draughty palaces

Charlie’s struggling to piss
It’s royally hit and miss
I’ve got medals, sashes and brocade
But I’ve got a trickle
When a king should cascade
And course and sluice and spurt
Not dribble in the dust and dirt
Of these cold mornings
In draughty palaces

Charlie’s struggling to piss
My majestic plumbing’s amiss
When the King gets the urge to go
Mine should be a mighty flow
A rush, a gush, a torrent, a flood
A fountain, a jet, a surge
Not the dribbles that emerge
On these cold mornings
In draughty palaces

Charlie’s struggling to piss
Summon the Royal Surgeon
The King says that it’s urgent

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Sunak’s War

Red Sea rebels
Holding up shipping
That’s a war to get on board
Excitedly says Rishi
A blind eye for genocide
But woe betide the other side
When the flow of capital
Starts slipping

We need our containers
Our box fresh trainers
Our TV’s deep freeze David Bowie LP’s
We can’t afford for them
To go missing

So now we’re bombing Yemen
He says in self-defence
Because a trip around the Cape
Of Good Hope is an expense
That the City boys
Would rather be skipping

Welcome to his Falklands
His khaki election
The flag-wrapped PM
Of navigation protection
The enemy of far enough away
Insurrection
Happy is the bloody hand
That’s dripping

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John Charles Jones

John Charles Jones
Had crops in October
John Charles Jones
When it started to rain
John Charles Jones
Fields are under water
Now he’ll have to wait for Spring to come
To plant ‘em all again

John Charles Jones
Crops are underwater
John Charles Jones
But nobody came
John Charles Jones
Because there wasn’t any funding
Now he’ll have to wait for Spring to come
To plant ‘em all again

And the rain came down
And the rain came down
And the rain came down
On saturated ground
And the rain came down
And the rain came down
And the rain came down
When Storm Henk came around

John Charles Jones
Says the climate is a-changin’
John Charles Jones
Says it’s easy to explain
John Charles Jones
Says the atmosphere is warming
Now he’ll have to wait for Spring to come
To plant his crops again

And the rain came down
And the rain came down
And the rain came down
On saturated ground
And the rain came down
And the rain came down
And the rain came down
When Storm Henk came around

When climate change came round

John Charles Jones
Crops are under water
Now he’ll have to wait for spring to come
To plant ‘em all again

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Wealthy People

Wealthy people: those with homes
Hairy people: those with combs
Royal people: those with thrones
Nosey people: those with drones
Music people: those with tones
Skinny people: those with bones
Traffic people: those with cones
Talking people: those with phones
Double people: those with clones
Gloomy people: those with moans (and groans)
Electric people: those with ohms
Library people: those with tomes
Garden people: those with gnomes
Hiking people: those with roams
Soil people: those with loams
Oyster people: those with zones*
Student people: those with loans
Rumsfeld people: those with knowns (and known unknowns)
Devon people: those with scones**
Sharper people: those with hones
Wiccan people: those with crones
Wealthy people: those with homes

*One for the Londoners
**Controversial, on so many levels

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Arise, Sir Tim

From Orwell’s imaginary pub
To an invitation to join the club
Arise, Sir Tim
We’re sure you’re gonna fit right in

Arise, Sir Tim Wetherspoon
The cheap booze in warehouses tycoon
The Brexit beermat cartoon
The politics of public and saloon

Arise, Sir Tim
Whose pubs are never prim
Whose pint is always full to the brim
Whose views are uniformly grim

From Orwell’s imaginary pub
To the King’s chummy little club
Raise a glass to Empire and Crown
You were never going to turn one down

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The Stalybridge Tornado

It snapped my flagpole like a twig
Our John told the news
And a tree fell on the conservatory
Spoiling all our views

A whirlwind, literally, Kerry said
We couldn’t open our front door
The lampposts were all swaying
I’d never seen that before

A tree came right through Maisie’s roof
Pulled down the bathroom ceiling
The Liberal Democrats demand
The PM calls a COBRA meeting

Chief Superintendent Dexter said
Some people have been displaced
We’ve told them not to go back home
If they really want to stay safe

When the warm air hits the cold air fast
It explodes just like a volcano
Thirty seconds of Gaza
It’s the Stalybridge tornado

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Step Up

You can see it
But life goes on
All around you
Like there’s nothing wrong
Step up, step up
Step up, step up

The sticker in the window
Reads Free Palestine
You know that it’s right
But you don’t have the time
Step up, step up
Step up, step up

Because a better world
Begins with us
A better world
If we just step up
Step up
Step up, step up

Dead babies daily
In your feed
Ethnic cleansing
Guaranteed
Step up, step up
Step up, step up

Dead babies daily
Every day
We’re privileged enough
We can look away
Step up, step up
Step up, step up

Because a better world
Begins with us
A better world
If we just step up
Step up
Step up, step up

Because a better world
Begins with us
A better world
If we just step up
Step up
Step up

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The Holly King

The leaves fall in his presence
The ground hardens to ice
Shortened are the days
As long become the nights

Until the Oak King rises
When the wheel turns again
And the song of the robin
Is heard over the wren

A time to feast, to come together
To let the flames burn bright
A time to understand
Without the darkness, there’s no light

Since it turns, so he returns
When the oak leaves wilt and brown
A reminder that the holly’s with us
All the year round

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