Rachel surveys the thinning crowd from behind the bar of The New Austerity Inn. “I thought it would be better than this,” she says to no one in particular.
The locals have taken to calling her “Rachel the Barmaid”. They don’t think that she’s qualified to run the pub on her own. She might have pinned her certificate to the wall, but she’s still done nothing about the dire offering on tap.
Meanwhile, outside the Wetherspoons, a man in mustard trousers hides a glass of Chablis behind “a pint of your finest ale”, lights a cigarette, and waits.
She pulls her coat tight against the wind and the rain Eyes fixed fast on the puddles and the path Her footsteps the rhythm of the thoughts in her head What just happened, they said
An uprising in the neighbourhood Things ain’t like they used to be It ain’t alright round here no more There’s some folk should be shown the door
It’s gonna be a rough ride Some boats will not survive the rising of the tide But they shall not pass So, hold fast Hold fast
She pulls her coat tight, the coming of the storm Seems inevitable now, since nothing’s changed The splashing of her footsteps, her raindrop tears What just happened, why here
An uprising in the neighbourhood Things ain’t like they used to be An imaginary village green A billionaire on a TV screen
It’s gonna be a rough ride Some boats will not survive the rising of the tide But they shall not pass So, hold fast Hold fast
She pulls her coat tight, like some kinda shield Could protect her from the coming of the night Hands searching for her phone You’ve gotta get wet if you’re gonna get home
An uprising in the neighbourhood Dirty looks from the poppy parade There’s never any spoken in the park It’s no place to be after dark
It’s gonna be a rough ride Some boats will not survive the rising of the tide But they shall not pass So, hold fast Hold fast
She pulls her coat tight, looks up through the rain A shaft of sunlight, a ray of hope More footsteps, increasing in number Just as she thought she was about to go under
An uprising in the neighbourhood A voice at her side says, hold fast A rainbow, standing, solidly cast United, they shall not pass
It’s gonna be a rough ride Some boats will not survive the rising of the tide But they shall not pass So, hold fast Hold fast
The great replacement got blue ticked Mickey screwed his courage to the sticking place Switched off; that’s antisemitic Elon doubled down with a say it to my face
Donald got elected, Elon’s main squeeze Now on the populist power track Easy as baiting with a piece of cheese Mickey came scurrying back
Let’s hear it for the billionaires Let’s hear it for the B-I-L, L-I-O-N Let’s hear it for the billionaires Let’s hear it for the planet’s wealthiest men Let’s hear it for the billionaires Without whom we’d all be better off Let’s hear it for the billionaires Let’s tell them to all fuck off
Elon went to school with an emerald in his pocket Elon told the world he built his own space rocket Now Donald is the president, Elon is the heir ‘Cos Elon is a billionaire
Let’s hear it…
Donald got elected and that made us sad The most celebrated rapist the US ever had But they’re dropping all the charges and saying fair’s fair ‘Cos Donald is a billionaire
Let’s hear it…
Nigel sucks up to the President’s men ‘Cos Nigel wishes he was one of them A Mickey Mouse Mosley with Enoch flair Who wants to be a billionaire
She pulled her shawl tighter around her A mother should never have to outlive her child Be there at the beginning and the end
She thought about her ex A gentle man, good with his hands Who never questioned her unexpected pregnancy There’s nothing more working class, he’d laughed Than giving birth in a barn
She pulled her shawl tighter around her And remembered the starlight The smell of fresh hay And the warm comfort of the animals On the day that he was born
Joseph
I’d have made a better job of that manger He watched over his new-born son One day, when he’s older I’ll teach him to saw straight and to nail true To value form as much as function And be the master of his craft
But it wasn’t to be
They couldn’t survive the recriminations Should they have kept him from the temple? Who put those revolutionary ideas in his head?
He thought about her in the starlight The smell of fresh hay And the warm comfort of the animals On the day that he was born
Henry parked his tractor in Whitehall Turned to the camera to explain My lifestyle is under threat, he said It’s causing my accountant great pain
The only way to farm this land, he said Is if your father was a farmer too And if your granddad owned it before him Then farming’s what you’re born to do
Like being a millionaire, I thought The bit that was going unsaid Why’s the right to own and work the land Restricted to the born and bred?
Henry and the tractors were holding up traffic Like Just Stop Oil in tweed caps Barbour coats and green wellies A Reform UK uniform, perhaps
Like mustard-trousered Farage Defending the interests of his class Henry parked his tractor in Whitehall What a fucking arse