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?
Rachel’s in tears behind the bar of The New Austerity Inn. The boss at the brewery has refused to say if he’ll keep her on or not and the local paper’s got hold of the story.
Against all odds, the locals are rallying round. They might not have forgiven her for trying to chase the old folk out who’d just come in for a bit of warmth during the winter, but it’s their pub, nonetheless, and their loyalty means that the books are starting to look slightly better.
The beer is still awful, mind you.
Dear Donny, I’m so sorry I was late
I thought we had two weeks to get the message straight
You know that’s what the airbases are there for, mate
When Ronnie bombed the Libyans, we didn’t hesitate
I’ve got Lammy standing ready with a statement to make
He knows there’s a special relationship at stake
And if there’s war to be made, then war we shall make
I could do with some ban-the-burqa action to take
So, let me know Donny, if you’re gonna bomb some more
I wanna be like Margaret and Tony before
Not getting invited would leave me pretty sore
Dear Donny, I’m sorry I was late for the war
Does it smell nice?
A letter from the king
Of scented ink, that kind of thing
Mellifluous craft and flowery word
Meticulously well-observed
Or does it smell of dusty palaces and old men
Tainted by the mouldering stench of then
Sparse script spiked with iron gall
As if the king should have to write at all
How tightly clenched, the royal jaw
How white-knuckled, the royal paw
Nib mashed to page, the words appear
One so looks forward to your second visit here
Behold, for sure, a regal thing
But what’s that smell?
A letter from the king
Has anyone got a hand cart?
We’re on our way to hell
Has anyone got a hand cart?
It’s really not going well
Has anyone got a hand cart?
For Mr Zelensksy
Has anyone got a hand cart?
He’s hailing a taxi
And it’s gonna make great, great TV
Great, great TV
Gambling with World War Three
Great TV
Has anyone got a hand cart?
For sofa shagger Vance
Has anyone got a hand cart?
He’s overdone the bantz
Has anyone got a hand cart?
For I’ve got a letter Kier
Has anyone got a hand cart?
Charlie won’t want him near
And it’s gonna make great, great TV
Great, great TV
Gambling with World War Three
Great TV
Has anyone got a hand cart?
We’re on our way to hell
Has anyone got a hand cart?
It’s really not going well
Has anyone got a hand cart?
We’re on our way to hell
Has anyone got a hand cart?
Yeah, Donald’s got loads to sell
And it’s gonna make great, great TV
It’s gonna make great, great TV
Gambling with World War Three
Great TV
Has anyone got a hand cart?
We’re on our way to hell
Has anyone got a hand cart?
It’s really not going well
Has anyone got a hand cart?
We’re on our way to hell
Has anyone got a hand cart?
Yeah, Donald’s got loads to sell
He looks out of the window, says it’s still grim
It ain’t stopped raining since they got in
No sign of a break in the weather
Feels like it could rain forever
And all that’s forecast is more of the same
All that’s forecast is more rain
More rain
He was listening to the guy with the Richmond song
Heard Jordan Peterson had him along
To a populist rally at the Excel
You kinda knew it as well
And all that’s forecast is more of the same
All that’s forecast is more rain
More rain
Meanwhile in Maryland, another Nazi
No putting this one down to chance, he
Said, fight, fight, fight
And signalled to the far right
Silence where you need condemnation
But he buys into the state of the nation
Looking out of the window, he says it’s still grim
Has been since they got in
And all that’s forecast is more of the same
All that’s forecast is more rain
More rain
More rain
With fewer his majesties
There’d be fewer dead
Yet he leads the remembrance
The old soldier said
The symbols that you see
Are there to show you who’s the boss
They know that you’ll comply
With the poppy and the cross
The poppy and the cross
King and country and the rest
It’s amazing what you’ll suffer
To be told that you’re the best
His Majesty don’t care
For your sorrow and your loss
So long as you’ll die for
The poppy and the cross
That fella with the wreath, he said
Signs the papers off
To manufacture weapons
For the poppy and the cross
To ship them overseas
For genocide in foreign lands
His jacket wears a poppy
But bloody are his hands
Bloody are his hands
King and country and the rest
It’s amazing what you’ll suffer
To be told that you’re the best
His Majesty don’t care
For your sorrow and your loss
So long as you’ll die for
The poppy and the cross
He holds a shepherd’s crook
And he wears a bishop’s hat
The old soldier said to me
What do you make of that
Here to give the slaughter
Some of his pious gloss
Here to lead the prayers
For the poppy and the cross
The poppy and the cross
God and country and the rest
It’s amazing what you’ll suffer
To be told that you’re the best
His Majesty don’t care
For your sorrow and your loss
So long as you’ll die for
The poppy and the cross
Don’t confuse sacrifice
With being sacrificed
The old soldier spoke
Of the wicked loss of life
King and country, God and crown
Will never count the cost
It’s you and I that die
For the poppy and the cross
The poppy and the cross
King and country and the rest
It’s amazing what you’ll suffer
To be told that you’re the best
His Majesty don’t care
For your sorrow and your loss
So long as you’ll die for
The poppy and the cross
In the New Austerity Inn
Where the beer tastes of poverty and spin
Rachel plays a tiny violin
(Singing) You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
In the New Austerity Inn
Where old folk aspire for a warm around the fire
Rachel leads the budget choir
(Singing) You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
In the New Austerity Inn
The New Austerity Inn
In the New Austerity Inn
The New Austerity Inn
In the New Austerity Inn
The guvnor’s got a new suit, new tie, new boots
He says everything’s reduced
(But) You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
In the New Austerity Inn
The New Austerity Inn
In the New Austerity Inn
The New Austerity Inn
It was just like this with George in charge
A bloke at the bar says he voted Farage
And Rachel shouts “Now we’re in charge”
In the New Austerity Inn
The New Austerity Inn
In the New Austerity Inn
The New Austerity Inn
(And) You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
We can’t have it if they can’t afford it
We can’t have it if they can’t afford it
We can’t have it if they can’t afford it
We can’t have it if they can’t afford it
A cloth so fine I’ll weave for you
The great and good can only view
The likes of which you’ve never seen
And best of all the suit is free
You’ll have clothes like no one else
The best of everything he sells
The people they will never see
And best of all, the suit is free
Meet the new boss, same as the old boss
Wearing the same invisible cloth
The people look, the people stare
From Clacton to Trafalgar Square
The people look, the people stare
But they all know there’s nothing there
The bobbin span, the shuttle flew
The sick, he said, have work to do
The finest cloth is meant for me
And best of all, the suit is free
The finest cloth on the machine
Though there was nothing to be seen
No marvel that his eye could see
But nonetheless the suit was free
Meet the new boss, same as the old boss
Meet the new boss, same as the old boss
Wearing the same invisible cloth
The people look, the people stare
From Clacton to Trafalgar Square
The people look, the people stare
But they all know there’s nothing there
Tough choices, did he have the spine
To say I see no cloth so fine
The cloth the great and good could see
But best of all the suit was free
Tough choices, but you know the rest
The cloth, he said, was of the best
The cloth the great and good could see
But best of all the suit was free
Meet the new boss, same as the old boss
Meet the new boss, same as the old boss
Meet the new boss, same as the old boss
Wearing the same invisible cloth
The people look, the people stare
From Clacton to Trafalgar Square
The people look, the people stare
But they all know there’s nothing there
The people look, the people stare
From Clacton to Trafalgar Square
The people look, the people stare
But they all know there’s nothing there
They all know the king is bare
Cold pensioners applauding
A pay rise for His Majesty
Smoke outdoor cigarettes
Where their local used to be
They share their coughs with cows
Busy trampling the corpses
Of a million culled badgers
Who never were their causes
The Britpop feelgood factor’s
Now a website bound to crash
Get your tits out rock ‘n’ roll
Is waiting for your cash
Where is the joy, they ask
Of booting out the Tories
It’s just a different face
On the same old hard luck stories
Steve White & The Protest Family 