The umpire ruffles his hair, raises a finger
The elderly batsman shuffles off
Supressing a cough
Category: Steve
More Marbles
Two world wars and one world cup
Looty, Queen Vic’s Chinese pup
The Parthenon Marbles, Rosetta Stone
The ring that Tipu Sultan owned
The Benin Bronzes, here to view
And we’ve got Tipu’s tiger too
Maori heads, the Koh-I-Noor
The Maqdala manuscripts and more
Stuff looted by the Nazis
During World War Two
The seeds of Hevea brasiliensis
And Lander’s Yoruba stool
The Admonition of The Instructress
To the Court Ladies scroll
A tribal warrior’s shield
Said to contain his soul
Moai taken from Rapa Nui
Paintings from the Tang Dynasty
The wine cup of Shah Jahan
A statue of a Luohan
Which is tri-coloured and glazed
Taken from a Yizhou cave
The collection also contains
A variety of human remains
Which probably should be given back
Under the Human Tissues Act
But Britain’s giving nothing up
Two world wars and one world cup
Marbles
Napoleon wanted to buy them
And if it wasn’t for Elgin’s divorce
The Government might not have acquired them
At half the price, of course.
He told them that he had a firman
Although its veracity’s in doubt,
He said I’m telling you the Sultan
Said I could take all the marbles out.
He was going to keep them in private
If it wasn’t for his divorce
Byron thought he was a pirate
And the collection he did not endorse.
Elgin, known to his chums as Tom
The Government said quite legally
Robbed the marbles from the Parthenon
And they took them off his hands most eagerly.
(Though if it wasn’t for his divorce
They might not have had such recourse).
They put them in the British Museum
Which is where they still remain
And is where you’ve got to go to see ‘em
Although if you were to get the train
From Manchester, for example
It would be cheaper to get the plane
To Athens to see the marbles
No wonder the Greeks complain
That Elgin robbed the Parthenon
And Rishi won’t give them back
‘Cause he’s seen the headline with his name on
Rishi’s lost his marbles, let’s bring Boris back.
Yeah, Elgin robbed the marbles
And if it wasn’t for his divorce
Some of Ancient Greece’s marvels
Wouldn’t still be outsourced.
The Unbelievable Susan Hall
They picked my pocket, Susan cried
Unfortunately, Susan lied
(Abetted in her little trick
By LBC and her chum, Nick)
She left her Oyster on the train
And now she’s got it back again
Her cash also came to no harm
But still she’s blaming Sadiq Khan
Picking the Pockets of the Dead
We bow to the crown upon his head
While he picks the pockets of the dead
From Morecambe Bay to Pentire Head
If there’s no kin or will to be read
He’ll pick your pocket when you’re dead
Bona vacantia the paper said
It should’ve gone to charity instead
But we bow to the crown upon his head
And he picks the pockets of the dead
I, For One, Welcome Our New Robot Overlords
Automate the CEOs
Replace the bosses with AIs
Programme them with helicopter views
And thinking straight outta blue skies
An online board meeting runs itself
So let the robots take it
And redistribute the company’s wealth
Amongst the folk who made it
Put Up Shut Up Britain Part Four
Stay in school
Stay off the station
Do not protest
Our wicked nation
Get off the statue
Get on the plane
Do not take us
To court again
If it ain’t compulsory
It’s forbidden
Welcome
To Put Up Shut Up Britain
Looking For a Fight
He’s not looking for a fight
He’s looking to look like he’s looking for a fight
He’s flexing little might with the far-right
He’s looking like he’s looking for a fight
He’s at the Cenotaph – singing England ‘til I die
The bobbies wonder why he’s singing England ‘til I die
They thought that remembrance was UK-wide
He’s looking like he’s looking for a fight
He’s at the Cenotaph – shouting at the bobbies
He’s at the Cenotaph – shouting where’s your poppies
Bobbies without poppies – he thinks it isn’t right
He’s looking like he’s looking for a fight
Bobbies without poppies – he thinks it isn’t right
He’s at the Cenotaph – singing England ‘til I die
He’s at the Cenotaph – flexing little might
He’s at the Cenotaph – with the far-right
He’s looking like he’s looking for a fight
Josef
When the shelling stopped
They came for us
Come out with your hands up
A thousand thoughts a second
Tell them you’re a farmer
The prisoners on farms
Seemed to be looked after
If they worked
They took us from Camp Beverlo
To Edingen, Zedelgem
Ostend to Tilbury
Waterloo
The transit camp at Kempton Park
Searches and interrogations
Digging ditches for new homes
Then we built the roads
Purfleet was primitive in ’46
Eight to a tent
Sleeping on the floor
At least amongst the thousands
Someone had a football
Provided by the YMCA
Some they took to work on farms
Others to Romford, a building site
The captain took me to a pig farm in Theydon Bois
Electric light
A radio
Cocoa and cigarettes
It wasn’t like this in the camp
The Morgans made us a Christmas dinner
That I’ll never forget
At Hayes Hill Farm
I met my wife
Hers a summer job
Mine a POW’s labour
Growing tomatoes
Her father, wounded in the First World War
Clearly did not approve
Demobbed
I decided to stay
Taught myself English from a dictionary
One word at a time that I never forgot
Still people ask
Where are you from?
That night in Venlo was cold
Heinz was injured
Karl, Werner and I thought about escape
But the game was up
Where would we have gone?
The Wetherspoons Fusiliers
Derek’s down with the Wetherspoons Fusiliers
Forming up to guard the Cenotaph
From a peaceful march that’ll never go past
At least he’ll salute our brave boys with a few beers
Derek’s down with the Wetherspoons Fusiliers
Following a Tommy licker sergeant major
Guarding a statue that ain’t in danger
‘Fuck off you slags’ the regimental motto sneers
Derek’s down with the Wetherspoons Fusiliers
To be honest he’s feeling a little bit parched
But Suella called ’em out to oppose to a hate march
She whistled up the dogs and Derek’s all ears
Steve White & The Protest Family 