Back to Blighty 2019
Bumpy vapour shakes the plane
As we emerge from the heavy shroud
Green summer land in slanting rain
From Central Europe's sunny lands
Vienna, Munich, Buda, Pest
From the Costa's fiery sands
Exotic East, exciting West
Back to Blighty
Onto the drizzle sodden runway
Doors swing open, cold air blasts
From the steps the hurried dash away
The arrivals queue is not so fast.
Europeans this way for now
For how long will we be as one?
We'll separate ourselves, the proud
and glorious sons of Albion
Back in Blighty
Pasty skins burnt in far off nations
Our favoured holiday destinations
Drunken, arrogant, gross and rude
Where we got our proper British food
Outside the traffic coughs and strains
Empty buses, crowded trains
The overloaded network groans
And everybody bloody moans
In modern Blighty
No contact from unsmiling eye
The mood on par with leaden sky
Stiff upper lip in force again
Certainty washed down the drain
Young-old, left-right, town and city
One land is torn in parts somehow
Devoid of hope, devoid of pity
Class division seems so simple now
In beleaguered Blighty
Isolation, desolation
Truly a divided nation
Braying politicians preen
Sombre news barks from our screens
The Brexit party turns its back
On 60 years of peaceful pact
They wrap themselves in our Union flag
They make me want to fucking gag
Remembering glorious bygone days
The Empire pillaged when we ruled the waves
Consumed by petty greed and hate
yearning to be the US 51st state
We protest, scream into the void
Credibility destroyed
In Dear Old Blighty
The world we knew it is no more
Stop harking back to the bloody War
They're queueing at the food bank door
and it's not the immigrants making them poor
Our Empire rose and fell before
We're rotten to our bloated core
We have no clue what we stand for
Good luck, dear Blighty
Doors swing open, cold air blasts
From the steps the hurried dash away
The arrivals queue is not so fast.
Europeans this way for now
For how long will we be as one?
We'll separate ourselves, the proud
and glorious sons of Albion
Back in Blighty
Pasty skins burnt in far off nations
Our favoured holiday destinations
Drunken, arrogant, gross and rude
Where we got our proper British food
Outside the traffic coughs and strains
Empty buses, crowded trains
The overloaded network groans
And everybody bloody moans
In modern Blighty
No contact from unsmiling eye
The mood on par with leaden sky
Stiff upper lip in force again
Certainty washed down the drain
Young-old, left-right, town and city
One land is torn in parts somehow
Devoid of hope, devoid of pity
Class division seems so simple now
In beleaguered Blighty
Isolation, desolation
Truly a divided nation
Braying politicians preen
Sombre news barks from our screens
The Brexit party turns its back
On 60 years of peaceful pact
They wrap themselves in our Union flag
They make me want to fucking gag
Remembering glorious bygone days
The Empire pillaged when we ruled the waves
Consumed by petty greed and hate
yearning to be the US 51st state
We protest, scream into the void
Credibility destroyed
In Dear Old Blighty
The world we knew it is no more
Stop harking back to the bloody War
They're queueing at the food bank door
and it's not the immigrants making them poor
Our Empire rose and fell before
We're rotten to our bloated core
We have no clue what we stand for
Good luck, dear Blighty
(c) Tim Fellows 2019
No comments:
Post a Comment