The Colonel’s run out of chickens
And Ronald’s run out of shakes
Joe’s run away from the War On Terror
Without admitting anyone’s mistakes.
Now the media’s full of armchair experts
And actual experts like Professor Glees
(Although not an expert on the Middle East)
Talking like Forever War high priests.
Because the quickest way to transfer money
From public purse to shareholder value
Is to start a war in a foreign country
And tell ‘em you’re installing democracy too,
Then roll your eyes and blame ISIS
For the inevitable refugee crisis.
Don’t forget that Ben Wallace, MP
Was the overseas director of an arms company
And Blair’s advice never comes for free
With his current interests in the UAE.
From a botched Libyan intervention
To WMD’s we never mention
The war on a concept’s turned a pretty penny
For the few at the expense of the very many.
But now the Colonel’s run out of chickens
And Ronald’s run out of shakes
Joe’s run away from the War On Terror
And the mess an imperialist adventure makes.
Author: protestfamily
The world's favourite east London semi-acoustic political sing along folk punk group.
Today, I’m Singing
Yesterday, I couldn’t touch things
Today, I can touch things
Yesterday, I couldn’t sing
Today, I’m singing
I’m singing
I’m singing
What about me?
I’m CEV
A year in isolation, cough free
Does anyone care about my captivity?
Yesterday I couldn’t go out
Today I can go out
Yesterday, I couldn’t sing
Today, I’m singing
I’m singing
I’m singing
Kids with vaccines
Wanna live their dreams
Sick of the disease
Time to do what they please
So, is it goodbye Jason and Joanna?
Yesterday, I couldn’t work things out
Today, I still can’t work things out
But yesterday, I couldn’t sing
Today, I’m singing
I’m singing
I’m singing
What about me?
I’m CEV
A year in isolation, cough free
Does anyone care about me?
Yesterday, I couldn’t touch things
Today, I can touch things
Yesterday, I couldn’t sing
Today, I’m singing
I’m singing
I’m singing
I’m singing
I’m singing
Pricks in Space
Pricks in space
Rich pricks in space
Rich pricks who think they’re philanthropists
In space
In space
Jeff’s got a rocket
Looks like a cock
It’s a rich spaceman
Delivery system
If space is so much better
He should just go and live there
Pricks in space
Rich pricks in space
Rich pricks who think they’re philanthropists
In space
In space
Richard was skint
But now he’s got a mint
To spunk on a rocket
That looks like a cock
It’s a rich spaceman
Delivery system
Only a space mission
By the NASA definition
Cos there’s not enough to keep him here
He loves a party near the edge of atmosphere
Pricks in space
Rich pricks in space
Rich pricks who think they’re philanthropists
In space
In space
Elon wants a rocket
That looks like a cock
It’s a burning ambition
To fly a space mission
So he’s looking for a lift with Dick
Cos he thinks that Jeff’s a prick
Pricks in space
Rich pricks in space
Rich pricks who think they’re philanthropists
In space
In space
In space
In space
Euro 2020
A beaming Kier Starmer is beamed into our homes
Wearing an England top stitched by children in export processing zones,
And who’s that posing by an England flag? Why it’s Owen Jones.
It’s amazing what winning and taking the knee can do,
Even Priti’s forgotten that she’d rather boo
And that seems to go for her boss too
With his England shirt worn over his clothes.
Keep the politicians out of football, but not the politics,
‘Cos it’s hard not to love a team that’s anti-racist
And not afraid to make the boo boys face it.
Who’ll speak truth to power and use their position
Like Marcus, leader of the opposition,
Got Spaffer to cough up on child nutrition.
If there’s a righteous pass then they’re gonna chase it.
So, Lee Anderson can go unpack a box
And take that wanker with him, Laurence Fox.
In fact, all the politician bandwagon jumpers
Who would never normally know their Arse from their Spurs
Or their O’s from their Bees
Can watch at home on TV
While our players take the knee,
Because just sticking to football ain’t the aim
And Black Lives Matter in the People’s Game.
Cyanide Sid Cooper
He’d punch his opponent
Though punching weren’t allowed
He’d wind up the ref
And he’d wind up the crowd
In his black leotard that only had one strap
You knew you were in for a bit of a scrap
Because his wrestling shenanigans should’ve got him banned
And God help you if you tried to shake his outstretched hand
‘Cos dirty Sid came from Dirty Leeds
Filling your Saturday teatime with dirty deeds
Picking up public warnings for fun
He’d often find himself undone
By two falls, two submissions or a knockout
‘Cos rules really weren’t what he was about
But now it’s goodnight grapple fans from Cyanide Sid
At the end of a heel’s life well lived
With a twisted smile as he’d twist a limb.
If only Spaffer were as honest as him
Killing People’s Okay, But Kissing Them Isn’t
Killing people’s okay
But kissing ’em isn’t.
Give your girl a job,
But make sure you keep her distant
Workplace lovin’
Brings a certain frisson
But killing people’s okay
And kissing ‘em isn’t
Hopeless Hancock had his cake and ate it
Gave his girl a job, but now he might regret it
If there’s a prize for incompetence, you think he’d probably get it
But give ‘em extra marital, they won’t let you forget it
Professor Lockdown will tell ya, “It happened to me”.
But Hopeless don’t take advice easily.
Although he hands out contracts to friends and family
It’s about him and Gina: Stars of CCTV
‘Cos sex sells papers, I’m sure you understand
We live in saucy seaside postcard land
It’s Carry On Government at it’s most grand
And Hands Face Arse might get him banned
Drax
As I was passing Charlborough House
I met a man who’d stopped to stare
I asked the stranger as we stood
What kind of folk live there
What kind of folk live there
The kind of folk live there, said he
Built the wall that now divides
Own all the land that you can see
And half of Dorsetshire besides
Half of Dorsetshire besides
Half of Dorsetshire besides, said I
And all the land that I can see
Pray tell me sir, what kind of folk
Have such economy?
Have such economy?
Such economy? Said he
Why that’s the home of Richard Drax
Whose family wealth was built upon
Thirty thousand broken backs
Thirty thousand broken backs
Thirty thousand broken backs, said I
Pray tell me what you mean
Does such a man of wealth and land
Have hands that aren’t kept clean?
Hands that aren’t kept clean?
Hands that aren’t kept clean? Said he
His money came from slavery
His hands are dirty as can be
Here’s a little history
A little history, said he
That history begins with James
Whose money came from sugar cane
A pioneer of the slave trade
And Drax Hall stands today
Drax Hall stands today
Drax Hall stands today, said he
And Drax plantation too
Where brother William took the trade
And their slave numbers grew
Their slave numbers grew
Their slave numbers grew, said he
Until there came the day
That slavery was banned, said he
But it was John Drax who got paid (a fortune)
John Drax who got paid
It was John Drax who got paid, said he
And not the former slaves
The owners compensated
Not the people freed from chains
Not the people freed from chains
Not the people freed from chains, said he
And Drax lives to this day
On the wealth of land worked by slaves
That he glibly waves away
He glibly waves away
He glibly waves away, said he
He denies his history
Says it was hundreds of years ago
Nothing to do with me, says he
Nothing to do with me
Nothing to do with me, said I
When his life’s such luxury
And owns half of Dorsetshire beside
Off the proceeds of slavery
The proceeds of slavery
As I was passing Charlborough House
I met a man who’d stopped to stare
So I asked the stranger what it was
That he was doing there
What are you doing there
What am I doing here, said he
I’ve come to settle the score
This day there might be just me
But one day there’ll be more
One day there’ll be more
One day there’ll be more, said he
One day then we’ll see
The attitudes of slavers
Join their statues in the sea
Join their statues in the sea
As I was passing Charlborough House,
I met a man who’d stopped to stare
And having heard his story
I stayed and joined him there
I stayed and joined him there
Derek and the Euros
Derek’s singing No Surrender
In the comfort of his own front room
Cos it’s too politically correct
To keep St George in your heart these days, he fumes
Cos Derek won two world wars
And Derek won one world cup
So, Derek won’t offer any applause
To players who won’t stand up
Gareth say be proud of an England
Where players take the knee
In the interests of pride and the interests of respect
And a little equality
Equality scoffs Derek, now he’s playing for a draw
That’s not what I tuned into the Euros for
Keep St George in my heart and God save the Queen
And God help us get out of Group D
Derek’s singing No Surrender
In the comfort of his own front room
Cos its seating room only in that pub on the front
Can’t be doing booking tables in the local ‘Spoon
Gareth says be proud of an England
Where the players take the knee
With responsibility to the community
Out of respect and out of duty
Derek says, well, it’s Marxist
(Oh come on, why doesn’t he pass it?)
You should keep your politics out of the game
All lives matter, know what I’m saying?
Derek’s singing No Surrender
In the comfort of his own front room
There’s no thought police between the carpets and the curtains
His home’s his castle, of that he’s certain
Gareth says be proud of an England
Where the players take the knee
And in the interests of pride and the interests of respect
They’ll stand and sing God Save The Queen
And Derek’s singing No Surrender
But St George in his heart ain’t so sure
Stand for the anthem, kneel for your brothers
Maybe ain’t so bad after all
Pandemic Posts, Songs and Poems: The Full List
- Quarantine the Queen
- Cull the Herd
- A Period of Great Concern
- Bog Roll Billionaire
- Nudge
- The Lockdown
- Mother’s Day in the Johnson House
- Lockdown Limbo
- The List
- The Day the Penny Dropped
- Charlie’s Got the Virus
- Shut Down the Sites
- Mild Symptoms
- Tories Get Tests
- Dominic Ran Away
- A Government Strategy Meeting
- The Lockdown, Week Two
- Fly ‘Em Home
- Goats!
- Tell ‘Em We’ll Test ‘Em Tomorrow
- Nurses! Never Forget
- 59 Billionaires
- Bog Roll v. Guns
- Just Another Day in Quarantine
- He’s Going in for Tests
- The Lockdown, Week Three
- Pirate President Trump
- The Government Pecking Order
- Who Cares What Nigel Farage Says?
- Priti Patel
- Robert Jenrick
- He is Risen
- Jacob’s Making Money
- Priti Sorry
- What Did You Do in the Lockdown, Dad?
- Untitled (14th April 2020)
- Put Him on the Spot
- Matt Hancock’s Badge
- Today’s Press Conference: It’s Working
- Matt Hancock’s Magic Wand
- Captain Tom (Better Keep Walking)
- Quietly Terrified
- Boris Bunks Off
- News From Necker Island
- Dead Heroes Are No Use to Anyone
- Liverpool 2-3 Atletico Madrid
- Should I Be Wearing a Mask?
- The Bunnies, the Beagles, and You
- B&Q
- St. George’s Day 2020
- Sunshine and Disinfectant
- Jason and the Virus
- Corona Universe
- The Prime Minister Prepares to Return to Work
- Holding Your Breath
- Sixty Thousand Pounds
- Daily Press Briefing, 28th April 2020 (Matt Hancock)
- Baby Boris is Born
- Spaffer Fixes Bayonets
- Rachel on the Radio
- What’s Gonna Happen When the Clapping Stops?
- Are You Ready?
- The Sickest Man in Europe
- Professor Lockdown
- Matt Hancock’s NHS
- VE Day
- This is England
- Shut Up
- A New Slogan
- Too Little, and Just Not Enough
- Heigh-Ho
- Britain First Want Their Virus Back
- Daily Mail: Let Our Teachers Be Heroes
- Work Is Safe (Tell ‘Em)
- Where Is Mr. Johnson?
- Has Anybody Checked the Fridge?
- When Tories Clap
- Five Tests
- World Beating
- Swimming With Sharks
- Herd Immunity Cummings (Gets Caught Breaking the Rules)
- Dominic Ran Away (Again)
- 22 Days (Of Dither and Delay)
- A Daily Mail Poll
- Hey, Dido!
- Barbeque Season
- On Not Following the Science
- Professor Jonathan Van-Tam
- Derek
- Untitled (3rd June 2020)
- More on Masks
- Here’s the New Normal
- No More ‘Til September
- Another Day, Another Press Conference
- Iain Duncan Smith/Trail of Bodies
- A Statue of Boris Johnson
- The Rights of Dogs
- What Dowden Didn’t Say Yesterday
- Farmer Dom
- Trust
- Derek and the Germans
- Jason Gets the Call
- Johnson Has Washed His Hands
- Patient 91
- The Lockdown, Part Four
- Super Spreader Saturday
- Spaghetti Bolognese (A Very English Tea)
- Coronavirus 1-0 Bolsonaro
- My COVID Discount
- Should I Be Wearing a Mask? (You Had to Ask)
- A Masked Man Walks Into a Bar
- Should I Be Wearing a Mask? (July)
- Derek Won’t Wear a Mask
- Cassie Sunshine (Is Wearing a G-String on Her Face)
- Chingford to Oxford Circus via Walthamstow Central
- Don’t Cough Over Your Cat
- (Living Life on the Lookout For) A Second Wave
- Local Lockdowns, Part One
- Ayanda Capital
- They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?
- A Man With a Fascist Flag
- Should I Be Wearing a Mask? Part Six
- Untitled (7th September 2020)
- Has Hancock Lost Control?
- Ferrari’s Furlough Fraudsters
- The Under 21’s
- Operation Moonshot
- Tofu Bats and Tofu Pangolins
- The Rule of Six
- Ian, Noel and ‘Van
- Leyton Orient 0-19 COVID
- Facemasks at Half Mast
- Rishi Sunak (We Know a Song About You)
- Hands, Face, Pasty
- Will it End in Tiers?
- The Children of the First XV
- (Whatever Happened To) Jason and Joanna?
- This Ship is Lost at Sea
- Tear Down the Fence
- From World-Beating to Scraping the Play-Offs
- Cummings, Cain and Princess Nut-Nut
- Christmas Bubble Trouble
- On Substantiality and Scotch Eggs
- Williamson v. Ferrari: Brexit Gambit Declined
- Christmas With the Vulnerables
- An Eyeful of Nose
- Behave as if You Have the Virus
- The Golden-Haired Boy
- ‘Tis the Season to be Jolly Careful
- Right Bullets, Wrong Gun
- My Postie’s Being Bullied by Iain Duncan Smith
- According to Paul
- Jacob’s Fish are Happy Fish
- Cough Away
- Maxine and Henry
- A Million Pounds a Day
- One Zero Zero, Zero Zero Zero
- The Tory Party Donor Money-Go-Round
- Free Stuff Jesus
- Keith Likes It
- 3-0 Up
- Clap a Tory, Pay a Nurse
- A Trip to Mars
- Jason and Joanna: Vaccine Wars
- A Minute’s Silence
- Capitalism and Greed
- Respect
- Spaffed
- Colin the COVID Cat
- Let the Bodies Pile High
- For Hug’s Sake
- The State of the Opening of Parliament
- Kick It ‘Til It Breaks
- Hancock, the Care Home Killer
- Killing People’s Okay, But Kissing Them Isn’t
- Today, I’m Singing
- Nikki Minaj’s Cousin’s Friend’s Testicles
- Oh, Micron!
- Barbara’s on the Radio
- Plan B
- Dead Cats, Reverse Ferrets
- The Day They Cancelled Christmas
- Dear Mr. Johnson
- Sue Gray
- Operation Save Big Dog
- Spaffer Bodycount
- Whose Rules?
- Investigation Into Alleged Gatherings On Government Premises During Covid Restrictions – Update
- When Is It Over?
- Stealth Omicron
- The King of Lockdown
Hancock, the Care Home Killer
Hancock, the Care Home Killer
Says he’s saving lives
While Barnard Castle Cummings
Is sharpening his knives
To no avail, as nothing sticks
To the Teflon Tory
Who’s taken his tricks
To Westminster Cathedral, no less
To marry number three, Carrie
(I hear you’re a Catholic now, father)
But, I digress
Hancock, the Care Home Killer
Who connived
To send the virus into care homes
But said that he was saving lives
Continues to tell lies
As Cummings’ evidence provides
So when all this is over, don’t forget
Even as the statue of Boris Johnson’s getting wet
That the ministerial hand upon that tiller
Belonged to Hancock, the Care Home Killer
Steve White & The Protest Family 