Tag: music
The Prime Minister Prepares to Return to Work
I’m coming back to work, and I need to know
That’s everything’s gonna be okay
So tell me my cabinet colleagues
What did you do while I was away?
Right, right, OK
Right, right, OK
Tell us Michael, you had a plan
To run things pretty hot
Tell us Michael about the plan
What sort of numbers have we got?
Well boss the plan’s killed 20000 people
We said we’d do well to stay under that number
The plan’s killed over 20000 people
Running hot might’ve been a blunder
Right, right, OK
Right, right, OK
Tell us Matt you had a plan
To sort out PPE
Tell us Matt you had a plan
What improvements have you seen?
Well boss there still ain’t quite enough
If I’m honest I’m starting to lose it
Even with all this military stuff
I didn’t expect the nurses to actually use it
Right, right, OK
Right, right, OK
Does anyone have a bit of good news?
Does anyone have a bit of good news?
Does anybody have a bit of good news?
Yes Priti?
Well boss I’m pleased to report
I’ve driven shoplifting down
Boss without any support
I’ve driven shoplifting down
Right, right, OK
Right, right, OK
That it?
St. George’s Day 2020
St George is working in the hospital
Some days there’s little protection at all
If it weren’t so dangerous it’d be comical
It’s what he’s doing here
St George is working in the care home
Now that the residents are all alone
Providing care and comfort in the infected zone
That’s what he’s doing here
St George is tryin’ to be braver
St George is your neighbour
St George is unskilled labour
That’s the face of a patron saint
St George is working in the supermarket
He ain’t had a day off since it all started
Sorting the shelves and the trolley park
It’s what he’s doing here
St George is working emptying the bins
St George is working in the school kitchen
It’s your online shopping that George is drivin’
That’s what he’s doing here
St George is having to be braver
St George is your neighbour
St George is unskilled labour
That’s the face of a patron saint
St George ain’t gonna go to work today
There’s no urgency to have a dragon slayed
St George can claim 80% of his pay
That’s what he’s doing here
St George ain’t in the queue at B&Q
His old sword will work when he needs it to
He knows staying at home’s still a smart move
That’s what he’s doing here
St George is having to be braver
St George is your neighbour
St George is unskilled labour
That’s the face of a patron saint
Look in the faces of your carers and your cleaners
Your doctors and nurses, drivers and teachers
Trying to stay safe from the coughing and the fevers
That’s what he’s doing here
That’s what he’s doing here
St George is having to be braver
St George is your neighbour
St George is unskilled labour
That’s the face of a patron saint
Look in the faces of your carers and your cleaners
Your doctors and nurses, drivers and teachers
Trying to stay safe from the coughing and the fevers
That’s what he’s doing here
That’s what he’s doing here
Matt Hancock’s Badge
Supply and demand like you were taught at school
Economically, that’s the golden rule
But demand a gown
And you’ll get put down
Demand a mask
It’s too big of an ask
But we’ll tell you what
Here’s a badge
Remember when they asked you to lend ‘em your vote
With a snappy spin doctored memorable quote
Demand a test
Queue up with the rest
A ventilator?
See you later
But we’ll tell you what
Here’s a badge
What did you do in the lockdown, Matt?
Well, I gave ‘em a badge
Supply and demand, like you were taught at school
Is holding the government up to ridicule
Ventilators?
We built the wrong ones
Reagents?
Can’t use just anyone’s
But we’ll tell you what
Here’s a badge
Listening to Hancock’s Horrible Half Hour 1?
The excuses are running out of staying power
Demand PPE
For excuse number three
Or parity
For the care industry
We’ll tell you what
Here’s a badge
What did you do in the lockdown, Matt?
Well, I gave ‘em a badge
- “Hancock’s Horrible Half Hour” courtesy of John Beaumont from Batsfeet
Pirate President Trump
The people of Barbados
Were buying ventilators
They had all the papers
That they were bought-and-paid-fors
But they were seized
‘Fore they hit the high seas
By the president’s decree
He’s a pirate now
The German police
Had their face masks seized
It’s hard to believe
From a plane in Thailand
Robbed on the tarmac
They just want their masks back
They just got a wisecrack
He’s a pirate now
And it’s a yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum
Here comes Pirate President Trump
Lock up your medicines, here he comes
Its President Trump
He’s a pirate now
He’ll steal your medication,
Your PPE
‘Cos his recovery’s
A month behind the Chinese
He’ll offer big money
For your remedies
Or he’ll take ‘em for free
He’s a pirate now
And it’s a yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum
Here comes Pirate President Trump
Lock up your medicines, here he comes
Its President Trump
He’s a pirate now
Goats!
What happens, when you stay in your room?
What happens, when everyone else does too?
What happens, in the doom and gloom?
You know that nature abhors a vaccum
Goats! Standing on our cars
Goats! Eating stuff that ours
Goats! Great Orme goats at large
In Llandudno, the goats are in charge.
What happens, by the Welsh seaside?
What happens, when everyone stays inside?
What happens, when you’re forced to hide?
A vacuum that nature can’t abide
Goats! Standing on our cars
Goats! Eating stuff that ours
Goats! Great Orme goats at large
In Llandudno, the goats are in charge.
What happens, by the Summit Hotel?
What happens, outside your house as well?
What happens, what’s that farmyard smell?
It’s Mother Nature starting to rebel
Goats! Standing on our cars
Goats! Eating stuff that ours
Goats! Great Orme goats at large
In Llandudno, the goats are in charge.
Goats! An imported species
Goats! From the hills visiting the beaches
Goats! With their Kashmiri fleeces
In Llandudno, the goats are in charge
Goats! Standing on our cars
Goats! Eating stuff that ours
Goats! Great Orme goats at large
In Llandudno, the goats are in charge.
Fly ‘Em Home
They were on the beach when the border closed
The trip of a lifetime they supposed
Cut short when the lockdown
Was imposed
Can they get to the airport, get on a plane?
Someone official needs to explain
Someone official needs to help
To get’em home
Fly ‘em home, to a country that won’t test ‘em
Home, to a country that knows best, and
Home to a country, stressed
By captivity
Fly ‘em home to lousy isolation
Home, to a divided nation
Home, to friends, relations
That they can’t see
Masked and gloved the driver came
At the airport they were all dressed the same
Waiting for a flight
To the infected zone
Tuned in to the expert’s soothing words
And the journalist’s questions dodged, deferred
The death toll’s rising
But they’re going home
Fly ‘em home, to a country that won’t test ‘em
Home, to a country that knows best, and
Home to a country, stressed
By captivity
Fly ‘em home to lousy isolation
Home, to a divided nation
Home, to friends, relations
That they can’t see
We Shall Overcome at What’s Cookin’
“This is about stopping the Tories killing people. We’ll stop them with a raised fist: in the streets, on demonstrations and by organising in our trade unions, our workplaces and our communities. Tonight we’re going to stop them with a helping hand. All tonight’s acts are playing for free, all the money will go to people on the front line of stopping Tories killing people: a food bank, a soup kitchen, and a charity that supports disabled survivors of abuse and hate crime.”
Well, we all needed that after this week: some joy, some solidarity. Never underestimate the healing power of music.
There is perhaps no better band to lift your post-election blues than Commie Faggots, no better R’n’B to dance the night away to than The Beatpack’s, book-ending our favourite ever pub rockers Graham Larkbey & The Escape Committee, the irrepressible Efa Supertramp, our hero Robb Johnson thanking the audience for lifting his spirits and, of course, us, debuting Air Miles Andy and leading a rousing chorus of Bring the Bastards Down.
We emerge this morning bleary-eyed but calmer, with a renewed sense of purpose.
We shall overcome.
The final fundraising figures aren’t in yet, but the legendary What’s Cookin’ whip-round won’t have let us down. If you couldn’t make it but would like to make a contribution, here are the links:
Steve
Furry Little Fuckers
Chicken Squawk pricked my conscience but not enough to make me change. My quiet admiration for vegan friends didn’t push me over the edge. The road to “ethical” meat-eating had been taken via organic and healthy, but the route abandoned on financial grounds. In the end it was a dog, and I stopped looking the other way.
He really loves you, but he’s just a dog
His love is real, as real as analogue
But the pigs share complex emotional responses too
And the cows to do much more than just go “moo”
So before your conscience recovers
Let’s kill and eat the furry little fuckers
Her name’s Daisy and she’s a sheep
The lucky one the farmer decided to keep
Bringing joy to the kids visiting the petting zoo
Who don’t associate her with being food
So before you think about her sisters and her brothers
Let’s kill and eat the furry little fuckers
Or you could tread a little lighter through this world
Her name’s Frankie, his name is Smudge
Grateful for the culture, the home, the love
But the goats and chickens ain’t got that kind of luck
They’re food not friends, their short lives kinda suck
So before your dinner ups and does a runner
Let’s kill and eat the furry little fucker
He likes pork chops and a steak or two
Maccy D’s and KFC too
Shrink-wrapped, pre-packed, juicy, meaty, fleshy food
Doesn’t think about a time when it had hooves
So before he starts to think about his suppers
Let’s kill and eat the furry little fuckers
Or you could tread a little lighter through this world
Steve
Wanstead Tap
In front of me is a list of songs that is too long.
Some say that’s a good problem to have, that the converse is worse, but I want to tell a story of a couple embroiled in modern British life under the shadow of Brexit. I want to visit their past and future in happier and sadder songs. I want to sing a pop song about the struggle of our trans comrades. I want to laugh at debate without experts and rage at a system that burns people in their homes. I want to play punk for the animals and tell the tale of a revolution in a small Essex village that grew legs and marched on the capital. I want to mock an institution with its boot still on our necks, and genuinely laud their gardeners.
And I haven’t even started on Little Tommy and his crew.
A bill this good requires compromise, there’s only so much time and some crossing out to do. What gets left behind will get carried over, more on that later.
Steve
Steve White & The Protest Family 