The Queen is dead, long live the King
With barely pause for breath
Or chance for anyone to ask
If this is for the best
The new PM, not camera-shy
Jumps aboard the royal ride
She wants those headline stories
King Charles the Third, King of the Tories
And old in years but new in post
Big Ears agreed to be her host
As they set out to tour the land
Of crowds policed with heavy hand
Where protest is all but banned
(Such a heinous caper
To hold aloft a piece of paper
Or call out your response
To the presence of a sweaty nonce)
Meanwhile, back in Parliament
The doors stay firmly closed
So no one hears the argument
Against a king imposed
Or his parade’s flamboyance
In a time of crisis
Or his tax avoidance
And the powers that allow this
(Three hundred million quid
God forbid
Remain in royal coffers
Received with little thanks, cap doffers)
No effective government
Since Spaffer’s slow departure
The new Tory incumbent
Threatens even harder
And mourning not withstanding
Has plans to keep rich standing
While the poor just quietly fall
It’s what she would’ve wanted, after all
A King’s Inheritance
He inherits the title
Inherits the land
Inherits police
Who with firm hand
Remove any protest
At his quick accession
There’ll be no dissent
At this royal procession
He inherits the title
Inherits the power
The proceeds of empire
His to devour
He inherits the poor
The homeless, the weak
Whose faith in the monarch
Is honest but bleak
He inherits the title
Inherits the wealth
To him it’s tax-free
As they sing to his health
Happy and glorious
God save the King
He doesn’t owe you
A damn fucking thing
Respect, Obey (The Suppression of Protest)
They’re sat on thrones
Respect, obey
Their royal bones are on display
Respect, obey them sat on thrones
Respect, obey their royal bones
They’re sat on thrones
Respect, obey
Hold fast your stones
Now’s not the day
Now’s not the day, hold fast your stones
Respect, obey their royal bones
They’re sat on thrones
Respect, obey
They’re sat on thrones
Respect, obey
Their royal bones are on display
The speaker drones, respect, obey
Hold fast your stones, now’s not the day
Respect, obey their royal bones
They’re sat on thrones
Respect, obey
They’re sat on thrones
Respect, obey
The speaker drones, respect, obey
The priest intones, respect, obey
The pauper groans
Respect, obey
Hold fast your stones, now’s not the day
Their royal bones are on display
Their royal bones
They’re sat on thrones
Now’s not the day
Respect, obey
They Sang God Save the Queen
She used her wealth and privilege to bring an end to poverty
When George Floyd died she led the nation when they took the knee
She made the toffs stop hunting
The foxes hung out bunting
She even stopped the Tories from shitting in the sea
She used her wealth and privilege to pay the nation’s power bill
And made an NHS fit for a queen if she fell ill
She closed food banks by the score
‘Cause they weren’t needed any more
And left the royal parks to the commons in her will
She used her wealth and privilege to make equality routine
She said this nation has no use for a nuclear submarine
She gave back all the loot
Gained in colonial pursuit
And when she died they dried their eyes and sang God Save The Queen
Spin To Win
Spin To Win with Phil and Holly
Losers freeze, how very jolly
Spin To Win with Holly and Phil
They may pick up your energy bill
Spin To Win with Phil and Holly
This Morning Hunger Games, by golly
Spin To Win with hopes and prayers
Amuse the TV millionaires
Spaffer Bids Farewell to Downing Street
He’s thanking the dog and the cat
It’s leaving speech part two or three
The cat ain’t even his
The cat’s still got a key
He’s thanking the dog and the cat
Like the cat could give a fuck
He’s making a list of achievements
He’s making most of it up
He’s thanking the dog and the cat
The cat’s just shrugged it off
It’s his last day in Downing Street
Bye bye, farewell, fuck off
Tesco
Do they want the pub boarded up?
Do they want the chip shop shut?
Who’ll bake the bread when the baker’s bust?
In the high street they let turn to dust
You’re gonna have to go to Tesco
Get a couple of cans to go
They want you to go to Tesco
Tesco’s where they want you to go
When you’re keeping warm in the library
Or the café with a two-hour cup of coffee
‘Til you need to leave this table, sorry
That’s not where they want you to be
They want you to go to Tesco
Tesco’ll have their gas bill dough
They want you to go to Tesco
Tesco’s where they want you to go
A nation of shopkeepers shutting up shop
When the gas price rises just won’t stop
And the Government’s asleep at the wheel
Tell me, how does it feel
When all that’s left is to go to Tesco
Like it used to be but somehow less so
They want you to go to Tesco
Tesco’s where they want you to go
John Henry
Like Boris Johnson gaslighting you about your gas bill, the myth of hard work is that if capitalism isn’t working for you it’s because you’re not working hard enough, and nothing to do with the whole crooked system being engineered to make very rich people even richer at your expense. Prime Minister in Waiting and co-author of Britannia Unchained, Liz Truss, is precisely one of those people who benefit from you believing that all you need to succeed is a little hard work and this country’s failing infrastructure is your fault for not grafting quite hard enough; her role after all is to protect the private sector and big business at all costs and not to look after you, no matter what she says. Don’t let her get away with it.
John Henry had his hammer, Stakhanov a jackhammer too
But Liz says that the British worker is an idler through and through
Now, hard work killed John Henry, and hard work will kill you too
So, when Liz says you need more hard graft, you know what you have to do
Tell her we’ll do a good day’s work, but for a good day’s pay
And when the union comes calling, we’ll take our work away
‘Cause we won’t break our backs for a boss who won’t pay tax
And we’ll do our stint together and our way, oh yeah
We’ll do our stint together and our way
John Henry, he built the railroad, Stakhanov, he mined for coal
But Liz says that the British worker prefers life on the dole
Now, hard work killed John Henry, and hard work will kill you too
So, when Liz says the nation lacks skill and application, you know what you have to do
Tell her we’ll do a good day’s work, but for a good day’s pay
And when the union comes calling, we’ll take our work away
‘Cause we won’t break our backs for a boss who won’t pay tax
And we’ll do our stint together and our way, oh yeah
We’ll do our stint together and our way
John Henry was buried in the morning, Alexei raised a glass
But Liz says that the British worker needs a kick up the arse
Now, hard work killed John Henry, and hard work will kill you too
So, when Liz comes promising some levelling up, you know what you have to do
Tell her we’ll do a good day’s work, but for a good day’s pay
And when the union comes calling, we’ll take our work away
‘Cause we won’t break our backs for a boss who won’t pay tax
And we’ll do our stint together and our way, oh yeah
We’ll do our stint together and our way, oh yeah
We’ll do our stint together and our way
A Lift to the Food Bank From Iain Duncan Smith
I got a lift to the food bank from Iain Duncan Smith
Driving a vintage British sports car
A Morgan Plus Four powered by a German engine
Goes from nought to Brexit in under sixty seconds
“I say” he said to me “Fine day for a spin”
“Isn’t the food bank just a wonderful thing”
“And now there’s even more of them than ever”
He had the radio tuned to LBC
A phone-in about prices
And the cost-of-living crisis
He said “We’ll have to suck it up, I’m afraid”
“It’s not our fault there’s a war in Ukraine”
“And I’m sure you’ll agree that it’s a price worth paying.”
As we passed the war memorial
And poppies on the road signs
I tried to say that his opinion probably wasn’t mine
But with the top down he missed what I was saying
I got a lift to the foodbank from Iain Duncan Smith
Driving a vintage British sports car
With a manual gearbox (sovereignty over transmission)
And an active exhaust in full hot air position
So how come he happened to be going my way?
Well, that’s where you’ll find all his constituents these days
Liz and the Button
Liz is ready to press the button
And usher in global annihilation
It’s an important duty, says she
I see it as an expectation
Liz is ready to press the button
It’s on her list of things to do
It’s a way to fix the climate crisis
And sort your gas bill woes out too
Liz is ready to press the button
Fearlessly without hesitation
A step up from a selfie in a tank
Here’s me with the tools of obliteration
Liz is ready to press the button
And Vlad’s alert level just went up
Is mutually assured destruction
What they meant by levelling up?
Steve White & The Protest Family 