Second chances

 Immigration, immigration

Getting like it's hard to mention

You ask somebody where they're from

It's like they've been hit with stun gun

I'm not trying to exclude you from my world view

I'm not trying to categorize you

But I like to know just who I'm speaking to

So don't get offended if I ask you to answer true

What's the problem? What are you hiding from?

Is it the dreaded word immigration?

I can say where I was born, that means I know where

I'm from

Though it sounds absurd

It matters if you're an Afghan, Somalian or Kurd

Sunni, Czech, Lithuanian, Polish or Bulgarian 

But only because it's culture is different

Isn't it worse to pretend we're all the same

And lie about where we're born

So we can get given the password

To enter a city, a country of gold,

But you know it's only this way

Because we haven't entirely sold

Our souls

Of course the massive corporations have though

They've been buying up

Our rights to life

They control our old age accommodation

Market forces

Forced Grandma into a home

Capitalism made your parents divorce

Getting rich, and being well

Became the only Christmas to sell

And such things as faith and honesty

Got thrown out with the dishwater

Into the frozen sea of commerciality

Some place, perhaps there's a place

Where being a family means

Being loved, its rules

Are above the government's laws

Regardless of citizenship

Which is just a passport key

It's just a way of saving a life

From poverty into prosperity

Prosperity, but no family

Just a waltz with the dollar

Just a Sterling march

A glide around the ballroom

of Second chances

Taking a spin

On the wheel of life and love

But you must forget

First what you used to have

Brexmas

 I saw Jesus coming on a donkey

I saw a little boy and a monkey

I saw a felicitous cat

But I'm keeping that under my hat

I saw a fat man wearing red

He had a big hat on his head

And it was just like the Sermon said

But I'm keeping it under wraps

Don't leave it out in plain view

For you know they're dwindling few

To hold the Christmas vigil

For Santa and his jezebel

Have clubbed the real message to death

Still we're all about restraint

And don't do that it's not safe

That's the British society we breed

And why we're losing our creed

But also we've made laws to stifle

Our own cultural traditions are trifles

And tea with the Vicar, 

hardly happens or it's quicker

Than it ever used to be

Not that I'm C of E

I was brought up a Catholic, that's me

But put me in a box

Or tell me to stop

Well then this isn't the country for me 

The man with the golden smile

 No he never gets his hands dirty

That just ain't his style

But if you ask him for a loan

He'll flash to you his grin that shows you his wile

For he is the man with the golden smile

Oh he operates in a place where they win or lose

Gambling in thousands makes his winnings ooze

Betting on the horses, over furlongs even miles

For he is the man with the golden smile

When he's losing, he spreads his winnings wide

Then they bring in their returns on the next tide

Coming back stronger, gaining interest all the while

For he is the man with the golden smile

Don't you know he's more powerful than a politician

Don't you know you'll never dent his well crafted mission

His image has been managed so carefully with great guile

For he is the man with the golden smile

The road to Shepton Mallet

 My tax bill came in I said

Wow how come?

The drum on the beat continued to hum

I put down the letter and

Twiddled my thumbs

Wow, I said wow

To the police I give a tenth of my vow

Jeeze Louise, I need to take a bow

For the Fire and rescue, I give a twelfth

Wow, I said wow

Adult social care almost as much as the police

Wow, Moses, Holy crocuses

If their parents never had them

We'd be sweet as roses

Burn that money somehow

Who are these cronies 

In the local government?

Make a change!

Make a change!

Every plan fulfilled

has been painted on the pavement

Make a change right now

Most of it goes on fire and rescue

Drunk people with candles setting light their curtains

Two fifths goes on the local town council

Make a change right now!

Two thirds goes on Somerset County Council

Keep talking, keep talking!

If everything is pink then

We better start walking

Walking to Shepton Mallet now!

Better get in Shape!

Better stop your shirking

Keep working, keep working!

Everyone's a jerk

If you can't quit baulking

Keep talking now

With all this money

Why are the roads still unsafe?

They keep shirking, keep shirking

With all this money

Why don't they fuck themselves?

Keep working now

Work this way until you're in your grave

Keep digging, keep digging

Then some teenager comes along

And desecrates with foam of shave

Keep talking now

Who knows when 

This song is gonna end?

Not me, not me

Let's end it here as it's all going wrong

Council taxes will always increase!

King for a day

 What if we were kings just for a day

24 hours on a king's pay

They'd do anything, anything that we say

If we were kings, just for a day

just for a day

Boris Johnson

 He was judged by his scandals and not his candles

Government of Love

 Oh you could be the next prime minister of my heart

You're the elected officials of the consciousness of love

And love is a policy which must tow the party line

Oh that thin thread between your heart and mine

Come muster your support, get the backings in the commons

Let the MPs of your Aorta call out in the chambers of belongings

And if you lost your heart in this election well why not try again

There will be another one coming and you'll be in the running my friend

I wrote down my constitution on the tissue paper of a lung

And blew it up like a balloon, so all the letters sung

And so enlarged was my chest, so courageous was my heart

But devious dealings and cowardice brought down my only art

For love is the exhibition, the portrait or the bust

Ex-rulers of love's country in a museum of lust

And sickness in love's hospitals where I spent my rest

Convalescing in love's company, or perhaps only its ghostliness

I sorted out my passport so I could cross love's borders

I had to escape my impasse, with my knights hauled up in corners

And their horses kicking around in one horse towns, 

where none could find a drink, 

well this town ain't big enough for the both of us

What the hell else did you think?

Love was what it ought to be, oh so long ago,

Just a wisp in the willows, just a twang of the bow

And yet it turned into a mist

That seeped amongst the shadows

And our boats they broke through the whiteness

On the way to marshy gallows 

The ghost of Christmas past or Brexit's Monster

 There'll be pigs in blankets

huddling cold meat in the street

And chlorinated chicken getting cold chicken feet

The response has been paltry poultry and foul Fowl

And it's fair game for the pheasants

Who follow the plough

And furlongs of furloughs have run the furrows low

As the mechanized industry is on the hill's brow

Like a silouhette of a monster in the dawn's early glow

Well its Brexit's monster now

What the working class wanted were better wages

To get the jobs back that they felt were their heritage

But what they have got are empty shelves and vacancies

Which none of them will fill for they've run out of sympathies

The jobs don't pay high enough they say with disdain

Then doctor Brexit comes at them again and again

This is independent Britain, this your birth right's claim

But who will do the work is Dr Brexit's Monster

He's mean and he's stiff, he's wonky and lacks self control

But his bionic limbs and till fields for vegetables

He can plough furrows, and he can glean lands

And he doesn't mind getting dirt on his hands

Oh sure he's an android, but what did you expect?

From the next generation of workers after Brexit

Few British workers could compete with European toll

And therefore our farming will be under mechanized control

They wanted higher wages, what they got was higher prices

of Food, fuel, electricity and gas in their houses

And if they can get to work at all

They can barely afford their utility bill

Oh it's the revenge of Brexit's monster

Well we treated him like he was a fool,

Writhing around in a small gene pool

With recruitment sharks hanging around his school

Yes he's an office clerk because he don't work with tools

He's got a mental age of 3 but he's learning fast

From his AI brain and his hardwired heart

And his mother board's fried and his fatherland

Smells of fart

Oh he's Brexit's monster