He’s not the Prime Minister. He’s a very naughty boy!
In memoriam Terry Jones 1942-2020
Pushing through the
Parliament Square
So many of us sighing
News had just come over,
We had five years more to cry in.
Young girl came and
told us,
Earth was really dying
Cried so much her face was wet,
Then I knew she was not lying.
I heard flaming trees near the Opera House, raging memories
I saw flash floods, dry river beds, electric storms and rising seas
My brain hurt like a warehouse, such a gloomy stark nightmare
I looked around for rays of hope, but they were just not there.
And all the fat, greedy people, and all the poor, needy people
And all the nobody people, mocked by somebody people
I never thought I’d fear for so many people.
A girl at school
went off her head,
Hit some other children
No welfare staff are left to help
Austerity won’t fill them.
An old man with a broken
arm,
Fixed his stare to the walls of the A&E
A nurse came and told him he’d just have to wait,
And he thought this is not how it used to be.
I think I saw you
in an old folks’ home,
In a nightshirt cold and long
Crying and waving and looking so sad,
Don’t think you knew you were in this song.
And the PM took his
briefing pack and I knew he’d never read it
And then he laughed at all the people on Universal Credit
A disgrace, you’re racist, the way that you talk
I hate you, you’re contemptible, I want you to walk.
We’ve got five
years, stuck on my eyes
Five years, not a surprise
We’ve got five years, my brain hurts a lot
Five years, and look who we’ve got!
We’ve got five
years, not a surprise
Five years, stuck on my eyes
We’ve got five years, my brain hurts a lot
Five years, just look who we’ve got!
Five years
Five years
Five years
Five years
With acknowledgements to David Bowie