Dogs, pigs, three-year-old kids
Eating one the law forbids
Convention says the second is
Similarly deterred
While of the tragic third
Consumption is preferred
Which is absurd
When you consider
The pig desires to not be dinner
As much as the kid
Would rather not get et
And don’t forget the dog
Who one simply does not eat
While he snoozes at your feet
Why not let
All three be free
To snooze and play
And not be tea
Where will the musos go
When Suno makes the tunes
Where will the brushes go
When the artist is AI
Who will make the art
When the robot eats the artists
When the robot is a thief
Then the art is just a lie
Where will the authors go
When the program writes the novels
Who will draw cartoons
When the satire is AI
Who will make the art
When the robot eats the artists
When the robot is a thief
Then the art is just a lie
When the art is just a lie
When the art is just a lie
Who will sing songs by and by
Write the books that make you cry
Paint the most amazing sky
When the art is just a lie
When computers take to stages
In empty concert halls
And galleries are filled
With no feelings at all
How then to be human
When the art is all AI
When the art has no soul
When the art is just a lie
When the art is just a lie
When the art is just a lie
Who will sing songs by and by
Write the books that make you cry
Paint the most amazing sky
When the art is just a lie
Put the Christ back into Christmas
The Islam back into Islamophobia
The bigot back into bigotry
The my back into myopia
Put the St. George back into the cross
Put the hat back into Santa
Put the race back into racism
Put the coke back into Fanta
Put the him back into hymns
Put the nation back into nationalism
Put the Christ back into Christmas
Put the Robinson back into prison
He died for his country
The first of the fallen
From Operation Raise The Colours
The tributes came pouring in
From football hooligans
And casual sisters and brothers
Banned for life from Bristol City
Now he’s banned in Bristol City from life
He leaves behind Michele, his wife
He leaves his ladders to the flag committee
His life was colourful, it’s said
Like the roundabouts he painted red
And the thoughts rushing through his head
With the pavement straight ahead
He died for his country
The first of the fallen
From Operation Raise The Colours
My advice: don’t hang the flags at all
But if you do, get some footed help from others
Peter The Homeless Santa
Plotted up outside the Little Tesco
We exchange the usual banter
But there’s not much room for a Ho, Ho, Ho
He’d be better off in a stable
But stable ain’t what he’s got
Peter The Homeless Santa
Is in his usual spot
Peter The Homeless Santa
Has a beard that’s not exactly white as snow
But it’s gone greyer quicker
Than an indoor beard would go
Peter The Homeless Santa
Is making a list, he’s checking it twice
A tenner would be lovely
A sandwich might be nice
He ain’t got a reindeer, he ain’t got a sleigh
He ain’t even got a safe place to stay
It might as well be Christmas every day
‘Cause every day’s the same on the streets
Peter The Homeless Santa
Gets a wave as people come and go
Some might stop for a few words
But he has no use for mistletoe
Peter The Homeless Santa
No stocking, no Christmas tree
Peter The Homeless Santa
Three missing pay checks could be you or me
He ain’t got a reindeer, he ain’t got a sleigh
He ain’t even got a safe place to stay
It might as well be Christmas every day
‘Cause every day’s the same on the streets
Every Christmas, Santa
Had a gift for me in his sack
So Outside Little Tesco
I try to give Santa a little back
He ain’t got a reindeer, he ain’t got a sleigh
He ain’t even got a safe place to stay
It might as well be Christmas every day
‘Cause every day’s the same on the streets
Nasty Norris from the Home Office
Metal detector in hand
Takes jewellery from refugees
At the border to this green and pleasant land
With their human rights in his sights
He claims they cost a billion pounds
His twenty year plan to send them back
Just as grim as it sounds
Dark forces stirring up anger
Prompt his boss’s idea
But with Nasty Norris at The Home Office
The dark forces are here
Rachel likes astronomy, looking at the stars
Imagining that she can see Jupiter and Mars
In the vast expanse of space, she can contemplate her soul
But in the New Austerity Inn
There’s just a black hole
So, Rachel put the price of the beer up
Rachel put a penny on a pint of ale
Rachel put the price of the beer up
But in the New Austerity Inn
It tastes just as stale
Free beer tomorrow says the sign behind the bar
But today, no brandy, no cigar
You can only have what you can afford
And in the New Austerity Inn
The price has soared
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
It doesn’t matter that she’s already poured it
You said you’d find another pub, but Rachel ignored it
Saying you can’t have it if you can’t afford it
Rachel put the price of the beer up
Rachel put a penny on a pint of ale
Rachel put the price of the beer up
But in the New Austerity Inn
It tastes just as stale
It’s licensee responsible, the alehouse of the possible
This is what it’s like, she says, when grown-ups run the pub
But if the beer is undrinkable, they’ll drink the unthinkable
In the Old Flag up the road, with Nigel and his club
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
It doesn’t matter that she’s already poured it
You said you’d find another pub, but Rachel ignored it
Saying you can’t have it if you can’t afford it
Rachel put the price of the beer up
Rachel put a penny on a pint of ale
Rachel put the price of the beer up
But in the New Austerity Inn
It tastes just as stale
The sign on the door says a nice woman
And a grumpy old man live here
Around the back a ten foot fence surrounds a garden
In which you sense that they may soon appear
By a shiny new flagpole and an even newer flag
Still flying the creases from the bag
This is our kingdom
This is our green and pleasant land
This is our place in the world
But we don’t understand
How all the money that we spend on being English
Doesn’t make being English very grand
It’s not racist, says the grumpy old man
But the basis for his racism is fear
When everything is getting worse and it’s hard to understand
Just blame them lot coming over here
With a shiny new flagpole and an even newer flag
Still flying the creases from the bag
This is our kingdom
Says the grumpy old man
This is our place in the world
But we don’t understand
How all the money that we spend on being English
Doesn’t make being English very grand
The people round here, says the nice woman
Used to be quite happy with their lot
There were factories and shops and their kids got better jobs
They worked hard for everything they got
Now they’ve got a shiny flagpole and an even newer flag
Still flying the creases from the bag
This is our kingdom
This is our green and pleasant land
This is our place in the world
And we’d share it if we can
But all the money that we spend on being English
Doesn’t make being English very grand
At Toad Hall a frog-faced fascist lights a cigarette
Pours a glass of Chablis with a grin
As he sleeps, his assets grow and grow
He owns the houses that other folk live in
He sells them shiny flagpoles and even newer flags
Still flying the creases from their bags
This is his kingdom
This is his green and pleasant land
This is his place in the world
And he fully understands
How all the money that they spend on being English
Makes his England really rather grand
This is our kingdom
This is our green and pleasant land
This is our world to share
And we need to understand
That the money that we spend on being English
Can make a world for all of us that’s grand
No longer being a prince ain’t justice
The When-Willy-Is-King hints ain’t justice
Not being the Duke of York ain’t justice
All the media talk ain’t justice
(Not being the Earl of Inverness
Does anyone care less?)
Exile to Sandringham ain’t justice
Surnamed Mountbatten ain’t justice
Not Baron Killyleagh ain’t justice
How long the delay on justice?
They’re just protecting the brand
Letting you think he’s damned
But beyond the pale
Still ain’t in jail
Happy hour seems like a long time ago
Now it turns out that Rachel didn’t have a licence to run the New Austerity Inn
Don’t worry said the Big Boss from the Brewery
We all make mistakes
And while the beer is stale
and the punters are depressed
they all come in for a warm-up
this time of year
What they gonna do?
Go to the ‘Spoons?
Steve White & The Protest Family 