He’d punch his opponent Though punching weren’t allowed He’d wind up the ref And he’d wind up the crowd In his black leotard that only had one strap You knew you were in for a bit of a scrap Because his wrestling shenanigans should’ve got him banned And God help you if you tried to shake his outstretched hand ‘Cos dirty Sid came from Dirty Leeds Filling your Saturday teatime with dirty deeds Picking up public warnings for fun He’d often find himself undone By two falls, two submissions or a knockout ‘Cos rules really weren’t what he was about But now it’s goodnight grapple fans from Cyanide Sid At the end of a heel’s life well lived With a twisted smile as he’d twist a limb. If only Spaffer were as honest as him
Killing people’s okay But kissing ’em isn’t. Give your girl a job, But make sure you keep her distant Workplace lovin’ Brings a certain frisson But killing people’s okay And kissing ‘em isn’t
Hopeless Hancock had his cake and ate it Gave his girl a job, but now he might regret it If there’s a prize for incompetence, you think he’d probably get it But give ‘em extra marital, they won’t let you forget it
Professor Lockdown will tell ya, “It happened to me”. But Hopeless don’t take advice easily. Although he hands out contracts to friends and family It’s about him and Gina: Stars of CCTV
‘Cos sex sells papers, I’m sure you understand We live in saucy seaside postcard land It’s Carry On Government at it’s most grand And Hands Face Arse might get him banned
As I was passing Charlborough House I met a man who’d stopped to stare I asked the stranger as we stood What kind of folk live there What kind of folk live there
The kind of folk live there, said he Built the wall that now divides Own all the land that you can see And half of Dorsetshire besides Half of Dorsetshire besides
Half of Dorsetshire besides, said I And all the land that I can see Pray tell me sir, what kind of folk Have such economy? Have such economy?
Such economy? Said he Why that’s the home of Richard Drax Whose family wealth was built upon Thirty thousand broken backs Thirty thousand broken backs
Thirty thousand broken backs, said I Pray tell me what you mean Does such a man of wealth and land Have hands that aren’t kept clean? Hands that aren’t kept clean?
Hands that aren’t kept clean? Said he His money came from slavery His hands are dirty as can be Here’s a little history A little history, said he
That history begins with James Whose money came from sugar cane A pioneer of the slave trade And Drax Hall stands today Drax Hall stands today
Drax Hall stands today, said he And Drax plantation too Where brother William took the trade And their slave numbers grew Their slave numbers grew
Their slave numbers grew, said he Until there came the day That slavery was banned, said he But it was John Drax who got paid (a fortune) John Drax who got paid
It was John Drax who got paid, said he And not the former slaves The owners compensated Not the people freed from chains Not the people freed from chains
Not the people freed from chains, said he And Drax lives to this day On the wealth of land worked by slaves That he glibly waves away He glibly waves away
He glibly waves away, said he He denies his history Says it was hundreds of years ago Nothing to do with me, says he Nothing to do with me
Nothing to do with me, said I When his life’s such luxury And owns half of Dorsetshire beside Off the proceeds of slavery The proceeds of slavery
As I was passing Charlborough House I met a man who’d stopped to stare So I asked the stranger what it was That he was doing there What are you doing there
What am I doing here, said he I’ve come to settle the score This day there might be just me But one day there’ll be more One day there’ll be more
One day there’ll be more, said he One day then we’ll see The attitudes of slavers Join their statues in the sea Join their statues in the sea
As I was passing Charlborough House, I met a man who’d stopped to stare And having heard his story I stayed and joined him there I stayed and joined him there
Derek’s singing No Surrender In the comfort of his own front room Cos it’s too politically correct To keep St George in your heart these days, he fumes
Cos Derek won two world wars And Derek won one world cup So, Derek won’t offer any applause To players who won’t stand up
Gareth say be proud of an England Where players take the knee In the interests of pride and the interests of respect And a little equality
Equality scoffs Derek, now he’s playing for a draw That’s not what I tuned into the Euros for Keep St George in my heart and God save the Queen And God help us get out of Group D
Derek’s singing No Surrender In the comfort of his own front room Cos its seating room only in that pub on the front Can’t be doing booking tables in the local ‘Spoon
Gareth says be proud of an England Where the players take the knee With responsibility to the community Out of respect and out of duty
Derek says, well, it’s Marxist (Oh come on, why doesn’t he pass it?) You should keep your politics out of the game All lives matter, know what I’m saying?
Derek’s singing No Surrender In the comfort of his own front room There’s no thought police between the carpets and the curtains His home’s his castle, of that he’s certain
Gareth says be proud of an England Where the players take the knee And in the interests of pride and the interests of respect They’ll stand and sing God Save The Queen
And Derek’s singing No Surrender But St George in his heart ain’t so sure Stand for the anthem, kneel for your brothers Maybe ain’t so bad after all
Hancock, the Care Home Killer Says he’s saving lives While Barnard Castle Cummings Is sharpening his knives To no avail, as nothing sticks To the Teflon Tory Who’s taken his tricks To Westminster Cathedral, no less To marry number three, Carrie (I hear you’re a Catholic now, father) But, I digress Hancock, the Care Home Killer Who connived To send the virus into care homes But said that he was saving lives Continues to tell lies As Cummings’ evidence provides So when all this is over, don’t forget Even as the statue of Boris Johnson’s getting wet That the ministerial hand upon that tiller Belonged to Hancock, the Care Home Killer
Who has got the more slappable face? Well, Scotch Egg Gove was leading the race But now Horrible Hancock is in first place You’ve gotta do what it takes And kick it ‘til it breaks
Kick it ‘til it breaks You gotta slap its silly face And kick it ‘til it breaks
What I said was What I meant was What I said was What I meant was For fuck’s sake Just kick it ‘til it breaks
And Cummings’ heroic self sacrifice bid Ain’t gonna forgive what he did A trip to the castle with his kid God forbid You’ve gotta kick it ‘til it breaks
Kick it ‘til it breaks You gotta slap its silly face And kick it ‘til it breaks
Then there’s the care home fiasco The PPE that didn’t show The clap a nurse but pay Dido They’ve gotta go You’ve gotta kick it ‘til it breaks
Kick it ‘til it breaks You gotta slap its silly face And kick it ‘til it breaks
Like a Hartlepool voter An EU fishing quota An Eton boater Who cares not one iota A pawnbroker playing poker While the odour of the owner Runs you over like a roller Someone wake me when it’s over And we can kick it ‘til it breaks
Spaffer liked hugging Allegra Spaffer liked hugging Marina too Spaffer liked hugging Anna Fazackerley And now hugging’s in the news (For hug’s sake)
Spaffer liked hugging with Helen But Spaffer still liked hugging Marina too Spaffer won’t hug you if you ask about Stephanie And now hugging’s in the news
Spaffer’s hugging here and Spaffer’s hugging there He hugged up Foreign Secretary, hugged up being mayor He’s hugging up the red wall, hugging lying down No one’s safe from being hugged by Bozo the Clown
Spaffer liked hugging with Jennifer Hugging on the sofa like there’s nothing to lose Spaffer likes a hug more than anything else And now hugging’s in the news (For hug’s sake)
Spaffer likes hugging with Carrie He’s hugged her enough to want to marry her too Spaffer is the hugger that the voters love And now hugging’s in the news
Spaffer’s hugging here and Spaffer’s hugging there He hugged up Foreign Secretary, hugged up being mayor He’s hugging up the red wall, hugging lying down No one’s safe from being hugged by Bozo the Clown
She’s a fan of a cross, and invading a mosque Although Fransen would suggest that she’s of immigrant stock She fell out with the lads with the fake marine badge Now she’s up in bonny Scotland on Sturgeon’s patch
It’s a super election, well at least it is for some But it’s always good to see a fascist on the run She thought that loyal and proud might play to the Rangers crowd But she heard another message, and she heard it loud
There’s 46 fascists in Glasgow Southside 46 fash was all that Jayda got 46 fascists in Glasgow Southside I’m telling you that ain’t a lot 46 fascists in Glasgow Southside 46 fash was all that Jayda got So, 46 fascists in Glasgow Southside And Jayda can all fuck off
From EDL to Britain First To Glasgow last From Rochester and Strood to the land of the Buckfast From Islamophobia to a prison cell Now she’s polling 0.1% in Glasgow South as well
There’s 46 fascists in Glasgow Southside 46 fash was all that Jayda got 46 fascists in Glasgow Southside I’m telling you that ain’t a lot 46 fascists in Glasgow Southside 46 fash was all that Jayda got So, 46 fascists in Glasgow Southside And Jayda can all fuck off
There’s a word that they use that Russ says shouldn’t be excused So we’ll keep the chorus light enough to keep you amused But it took a tartan tory to give a headline to this story And Nicola told her to fuck off on the news
There’s 46 fascists in Glasgow Southside 46 fash was all that Jayda got 46 fascists in Glasgow Southside I’m telling you that ain’t a lot 46 fascists in Glasgow Southside 46 fash was all that Jayda got So, 46 fascists in Glasgow Southside And Jayda can all fuck off
“They’re a different type of immigrant,” says Jean, “They’re not here to graft, to care, to cook or clean.” “They’re smuggled here for profit,” “And someone ought to stop it.” “Our tiny island’s full,” she vents her spleen.
And Barbara chimes, “They’re all illegal too.” “Not behaving like the genuine ones would do.” “We don’t want the ones like these,” “In their virus-ridden dinghies.” Her vote, you guess, is a Priti, Tory blue.
The hardened hearts of Chingford all refer, To the Mail Online and Johnson’s veiled slur On London’s current mayor, Makes you wonder and despair What type of immigrant they think his parents were.
And if you really must read the article in the Mail Online….
Steve White & The Protest Family 