Melody

[chorus:] Oh, my PM’s a Womble, with an orange sash and a flute,
And when I’ve seen her lately, she’s sticking in the boot.
You’d think that she’d be finished, with no majority,
But such things are mere trifles in bourgeois democracy.

Throughout the campaign season she was nowhere to be seen,
You’d think Theresa’s on the run from the good old RUC.
the plebs can be so nasty, they won’t leave her alone,
but she’s so strong and so stable that she just campaigned by phone.

[chorus]

The press were in agreement that Corbyn was an ass,
Who simply couldn’t comprehend the British working class,
Everybody knows the workers are turned on by punishment
So behold the shock and horror when they hung the Parliament.

[chorus]

Theresa looked well finished as everyone would note;
Her own party debated: In the back or in the throat?
But our Ms May, she knew how to recover from the flop,
And so she found salvation in the Shankill butcher shop.

[chorus]

But over in old England the folks were really cruel,
It surely is a thankless job maintaining British rule.
‘Don’t call us Irish ISIS, we ought to break your legs;
There’s nothing wrong with ISIS, but how dare you call us Taigs?’

[chorus]

Well, Downing Street’s been done up now, the kerbstones have fresh paint
And everywhere the murals read ‘Theresa we’ll maintain’
There’ll be no more line dancing, and dinosaurs are banned.
Each day will bring excitement from Theresa’s red right hand.

[chorus]

The DUP in government is sure to be a blast,
But still you have to wonder: Can this marriage really last?
True, an hour with the Orangemen feels like an eternity,
But premature explosions are their speciality.

[chorus]

(Melody: Joe Hill)

Dreamed I saw Maggie Thatcher here,
Alive as you and me,
Says I, ‚Oh, bugger off, you’re dead‘
Says she, ‚That’s news to me.‘ (bis)

‚Your death brought joy around the world,
Your grave’s a public loo…‘
‚And yet in this election, there’s
Not one of me, but two (bis)

‚When Ed and Dave make welfare cuts,
It’s called „austerity“,
‚cos none of them wants you to know
They’re plagiarising me. (bis)

When even Labour want to make
Scab jobs compulsory,
It’s clear to me that something’s died,
And I know it’s not me.‘ (bis)

There’s no alternative, I said,
Indeed, how could there be,
When no matter how you vote,
You’re re-electing me? (bis)

Till City spivs have fled the land,
And the aristocracy
Have all been laid down at my side,
You’ll ne’er be rid of me.‘ (bis)

(Melody: Redgum, I Was Only 19)

Mum and Dad and Danny saw the Reclaim Oz parade at Fed Square Melbourne
The locals were quite unimpressed.
It was the Nazis‘ all-Australia tour and it was Victoria’s turn to host
There was much rejoicing on the Yarra when they left.
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The Labour flag is brightest white,

it’s raised without the slightest fight.
It says ‚We’ll beat the Tories yet
at scrapping all your benefits.‘

(CHORUS): So wave the white flag without shame,
for we’re Tories in all but name.
See traitors sneer and cowards wince,
at this year’s Labour conference.

In their graves, Merthyr martyrs turn
so fast that half the Rhondda burns.
Tho‘ plebs may rise and make a fuss,
that lot are nowt to do with us.

(Chorus)

In Tottenham we’ll ne’er be seen
till gentrifiers wipe it clean.
The Scottish worker we’ll ignore
(those jocks are such a ruddy bore)

(chorus)

It waved above the PFI
when the NHS was left to die.
It draped the coffin of BR
and welcomes fracking near and far.

(chorus)

It well recalls betrayals past
and brings the hope of profits fast.
The flag of fright, a symbol plain
of endless, unremitting pain.

(chorus)

It suits today the sycophant
who only stands for parliament
to fill with drink the rich man’s cup
and raise our party banner up

(chorus)

We’ll fully claim ev’ry expense
whilst others work for zero pence.
They’ve only got themselves to blame,
for morals are a muppet’s game.

So wave the white flag without shame,
and soon they’ll call you Sir and Dame.
And should a whistleblower talk,
you needn’t ever fear the dock.