DON’T THEY KNOW IT’S BOLLOCKS
(To the tune of ‚Don’t They Know It’s Christmas‘)
It’s Christmas time – just don’t turn on your TV.
At Christmas time, the shite they show’s no good for you or me.
If you just avoid the telly you can spread a smile of joy,
That’s how you keep your supper down at Christmas time.
But say a prayer, pray for the other ones
Stuck home watching Geldof and just yearning for a gun.
There are rich folks on the telly
wanting you to know they care,
come to beg you for your money,
so they can hold on to theirs.
And the Christmas songs they sing there are pure bourgeois wankery
So tonight thank god you’ve got a DVD.
And there won’t be snow in Africa this Christmas time
(because most places there it’s summer, you gobshite)
Where nothing ever grows,
(‚cept the cash crops we all know).
Did you lot even research this at all?
Here’s to you
By now you must want a drink.
Every yuletide they’re here to pimp the poor,
in Africa – the poverty here they ignore.
Here’s to them,
With their exiled bank accounts.
Every year it’s the same old act –
Why don’t these bastards just pay their tax?
Don’t they know it’s bollocks, after all?