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
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
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
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
She had to stop watching the news when she became the news Another poverty safari into a lifestyle she didn’t choose She hardly has the lights on at this time of year And like the feeling going around She’s feeling like she’s gonna drown And she don’t know what she’s gonna do when the sun goes down She don’t know what she’s gonna do She don’t know what she’s gonna do She don’t know what she’s gonna do when the sun goes down
Blackouts to hide from bailiffs rather than warplanes But it’s war just the same, in all but name, with a wartime price to be paid And something to eat will have to wait until tomorrow now ‘Cause like the feeling going around She’s feeling like she’s gonna drown And she don’t know what she’s gonna do when the sun goes down She don’t know what she’s gonna do She don’t know what she’s gonna do She don’t know what she’s gonna do when the sun goes down When the sun goes down When the sun goes down She don’t know what she’s gonna do when the sun goes down
Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter and you don’t matter To the bosses the bankers and the billionaires Fat cats get fatter
They’re talking ‘bout the price of gas They say handouts are kinda crass The sinking ship’s still fulla rats Who like to think they’re friends with cats
(While) Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter and you don’t matter To the bosses the bankers and the billionaires Fat cats get fatter
They’re talking ‘bout the price of you The pay rise that you’re due They’re telling you to join the queue For the credit card they overdrew
(And) Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter and you don’t matter To the bosses the bankers and the billionaires Fat cats get fatter
If in the morning they were all gone Everyone would see the con If the billionaires had upped and run All the work would still get done
(While) Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter and you don’t matter To the bosses the bankers and the billionaires Fat cats get fatter
Fat cats Get fatter Fat cats Get fatter Fat cats Get fatter Fat cats Get fatter Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter and you don’t matter To the bosses the bankers and the billionaires Fat cats get fatter
They’re literally printing money (not literally) Their uplands are always sunny While the country descends into poverty They’re all on fuckin’ holiday
(‘Cause) Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter and you don’t matter To the bosses the bankers and the billionaires The bosses the bankers and the billionaires The bosses the bankers and the billionaires The bosses the bankers and the billionaires Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter and you don’t matter To the bosses the bankers and the billionaires Fat cats get fatter
This September, we’ll celebrate ten years since we drove the fascists out of Walthamstow.
I remember walking up a packed Hoe Street, past closed and shuttered shopfronts, with the notable exception of the Rose & Crown of course, thinking “This is big”, but it wasn’t until we got to Bell Corner that I realised quite how big. Over four thousand local people, anti-fascists and trade unionists had turned up to oppose the racist EDL who had been escorted to Blackhorse Road with the intention of marching through our community to a rally outside the Magistrates Court and whose numbers barely troubled two hundred.
Met with opposition from local people from the moment they set foot outside the tube station, their route blocked by thousands of us at a key junction, forced into the back streets and literally wetting themselves in a police kettle in Farnan Avenue, and their leaders surrounded by anti-fascists in Forest Road, it’s fair to say that that Tommy Robinson and co. did not have a good day.
Like Roger says, most people aren’t racist.
To mark the anniversary, there’s a whole series of events which can be found here, including us playing a show at the Trades Hall, with tickets available here.
In honour of the occasion, we’re also re-releasing the Double B-Side, The Day We Kicked The Fascists Out Of Walthamstow (Graham Larkbey & The Escapees) c/w No Pasaran In E17 (Steve White & The Protest Family). It’s a free download and you can find it here.
Steve White & The Protest Family 