The patron saint of roundabouts
Zip-tied flags and far-right louts
The patron saint of Stop The Boats
And disaffected Brexit votes
The patron saint of LBC
GB News and Talk TV
The saint of plain hostility
To anyone who ain’t like me
The patron saint of wooden crosses
Crumbling and rotten
The patron saint of you can’t have it
Races to the bottom
The patron saint of two world wars
And one lousy world cup
Where are you now our dear St George
How badly did you fuck it up?
This land of riches, this land of rags
This land of lampposts and angry flags
Of roundabouts and hasty tags
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
This land of swine, this land of pearls
This land of violence ‘gainst women and girls
This land that squints out at the world
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
The pain is real
The pain is there
The pain you feel
The pain’s unfair
When you feel there’s nowhere left to turn
History has a lesson
You need to learn
Is it the hours and days on hold
The choice of hunger or of cold
Just the sheer lack of control
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
Is it the blank-faced lawyer and his blank-faced crew
Paralysed without a clue
When they say they know what to do
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
The pain is real
The pain is there
The pain you feel
The pain’s unfair
When you feel there’s nowhere left to turn
History has a lesson
You need to learn
This land of hope and former glory
Rich colour in the nation’s story
By land and sea and century
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
This land of wider still and wider
Shrinking in the light of day
Of awkward empire pride and shame
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
This land of drawbridges and moats
This land of pointless wasted votes
This land obsessed with small boats
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
We turned them back in Walthamstow
Then turned them back again
We turned them back so hard
That we made the News at Ten
So come the Farage Riots
In our thousands, we held fast
In Walthamstow, across the land
We said, they shall not pass
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
From Glasgow Southside to Southend West,
A crusader, invader of mosques and the rest,
A patriot, self-confessed,
A racist, no less, self-obsessed,
Contests
Elections.
So she can advocate, give weight
And seek a mandate for her hate.
Her will to aggravate and alienate
Does not abate.
It’s gross,
The violent intolerance that she promotes,
In red top quotes,
One hopes
Will get no votes.
[Story here.]
Steve White & The Protest Family 