Righteous in his generation
He prays not for the washed away
His brilliant ship built just for him
He curses their decay
This antediluvian patriarch
Looks out just for his own
The animals came in two by two
And Noah drinks alone
Nursery Rhymes
Ring a ring o’ roses
In the land of Moses
Gaza! Gaza!
We all fall down
Nursery Rhymes
Jack Spratt lets the contract
His wife fulfils unseen
From Infosys to Downing Street
They lick the platter clean
Benny Greene
In the year of Our Lord Eighteen Hundred and Six
Young Benny Greene’s up to old tricks
Brewing beer in the sticks with old Billy Buck
He’s about to come into some luck
‘Cause Benny’s old neighbours, Sir Pat and Lady B
Got into a jam, needed a guarantee
Right place, right time, Billy said please
And the plantation owners handed over the keys
Benny Greene kept slaves
When Britannia ruled the waves
Yeah, Benny Greene kept slaves
It’s the price of a pint he says
Now Benny the brewer’s a slave owner too
A slave owner’s wealth is his to accrue
Arguing the toss in the local rag
That slavery ain’t so bad
But the people of Bury got fed up with Benny Greene
So he left young Eddie to run the brewery
And set up a West India company instead
The labour of slaves now his daily bread
Benny Greene kept slaves
When Britannia ruled the waves
Yeah, Benny Greene kept slaves
It’s the price of a pint he says
All good things lamented Benny Greene
When abolition came in 1833
But it turned out business barely took a hit
‘Cause there was compo, really quite a bit
You see, the thing about compensation in those days
Is it went to the owners and not the slaves
So they worked on the plantation, still engaged
But this time on a minimum wage
Benny Greene kept slaves
When Britannia ruled the waves
Yeah, Benny Greene kept slaves
It’s the price of a pint he says
While Eddie took the brewery and merged with Freddie King
Charlie went to St Kitts to do his thing
In all the pleasures of a slaver did he partake
Leaving thirteen bastards in his wake
Eddie became a Tory MP
Deputy Lieutentant and a JP
Master of the hunt, he would speak at great length
And the brewery went from strength to strength
Benny Greene kept slaves
When Britannia ruled the waves
Yeah, Benny Greene kept slaves
It’s the price of a pint he says
The business passed on to Walter Greene
Fortuitously born at the brewery
Hunting, driving and sailing yachts
While Lake built an empire ne’er to be forgot
The biggest brewer now in the UK
But there are reparations to be paid
For old Benny Greene’s slavery days
Not forgetting Charlies wayward ways
Benny Greene kept slaves
When Britannia ruled the waves
Yeah, Benny Greene kept slaves
It’s the price of a pint he says
The good folk of St Kitts have come to collect
The good folk of St Kitts say never forget
Put down your IPA and listen to their tale
There’s more than hops and barley in the story of your ale
Benny Greene kept slaves
When Britannia ruled the waves
Yeah, Benny Greene kept slaves
It’s the price of a pint he says
Put down your IPA and listen to their tale
There’s more than hops and barley in the story of your ale
St Kitts and Nevis vs Greene King
Much to Catherine and Thomas’ disgust
Benny liked keeping a slave
They thought that abolition was just
He thought they should just behave
In fact, Benny liked keeping slaves so much
He purchased his local paper
And ran articles, polemics and such
About how he’d done slaves a favour
They’re much better clothed
And much better housed
And much better fed
The Herald espoused
Than your average English labour
He’d met Buck in the chapel
And they’d set about brewing beer
For the good, the great and the rabble
Of Bury St Edmunds, in the year
Of Our Lord Eighteen Hundred and Six
Old ale and porter too
And when The Blake’s found themselves in a fix
It was Benny who came through
And said, I’ll manage your plantations
In Monserrat and St Kitts
And many generations of Greenes
Will reap the benefits
His business grew, his chattels too
And though he found trafficking abhorrent
Keeping slaves, he’d happily pursue
As necessity, so he’d warrant
He fought the passage of The Slave Trade Act
Even quoting The Bible on occasion
And by 1833 he’d attract
Libel action, to his frustration
And so, three years later, he was off to the City
Leaving Edward to brew the beer
The compensation for freedom, more’s the pity
Going to Benny, not the slaves, it’s clear
Half a million in today’s money
Is what ol’ Benny got
While the freed slaves, not so lucky
Well, they got not a lot
And the wages on the plantations
That the freed slaves were now making
Never matched the profits or remunerations
That the Greene family were taking
And while Edward was running the brewery
Young Charles went out to St Kitts
Able, but with much tomfoolery
He left behind thirteen kids, the family now admits
All of whom were born illegitimately
As discovered by Sir Hugh Carleton Greene
Himself director of the BBC
And a great-nephew of Charlie Greene
(The novelist, Graeme Greene
Was another who carried the gene)
Now the good folk of St Kitts and Nevis
Frustrated by our government’s hesitation
Have said to Greene King, you owe us this
We demand our reparation
For the slavery days of Benny Greene
The money that he made
4.6 billion in 2019
Once off the backs of slaves
So, put down your pint of IPA
And listen to their tale
There’s more than hops, yeast and barley
In the story of your ale
Refugees’ Luggage
They came with orders
And transporters
Souls with borders
Who are you we’re moving you
Off you go
Tentative roots in a new community
Ripped out fast with the impunity
Of cruelty to the refugee
Being Party policy
Who are you we’re moving you
Off you go
From one uncaring mean hotel
To the next uncaring mean hotel
No pleased as man with man to dwell
No fond farewell
Who are you we’re moving you
Off you go
What you can carry’s what you can bring
What’s left behind you know they’ll sling
Don’t you dare say a fucking thing
Who are you we’re moving you
Off you go
And all that’s left is the refugees’ luggage
That the hotel will throw in the bin
This is England this is right now
These are the fascists that you voted in
Full story here
Unambiguous Shoes
He wears flat-fronted trousers
And unambiguous shoes
He wears a watery stare
His sour breath hints of booze
He doesn’t like your poetry
And he wants you to know
He doesn’t like your words
Your meter or your flow
With prodding finger, spit-fringed lips
His ire is plain to see
It’s not your prodding rhymes
It’s your ideology
He despairs of modern life
But is disinclined to change
He despairs there’s little to be gained
From this ugly exchange
But the poet knows that friction
Makes the sparks that light a fire
And unambiguous shoes
Will just walk his craft higher
Being a Princess Ain’t a Job
On your own is not a mob
Neat and tidy ain’t a slob
A perfect sphere is not a blob (or a glob)
Looking up is not a snob
Shortened Richard isn’t Bob
A sticking plaster ain’t a swab
A bread roll is not a cob*
A single pulse is not a throb
A fast ball is not a lob
Quietly spoken ain’t a gob
Me in it thou shalt not dob
The grill or oven ain’t a hob
The same suit’s king is not his nob
A giggle clearly ain’t a sob
Being a princess ain’t a job
*Yeah, I know
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
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
Steve White & The Protest Family 