Tuesday, 21 January 2014

Meet me by The Runnymede


‘By hook and crook’.
They don’t give a fuck
For the poor,
Who in their book
Are dirty scum
Who should not housed
Or even boarded
In tenements ill afforded.

‘By hook and crook’.
They grabbed the power
And killed the kings
Of previous sovereignty
And set upon
The British land
A iron foot and fist,
And disinherited a generation
Of Saxon knights
Who would not bow their knee
To this foreigner from Normandy.

‘By hook and crook’.
They raped the land.
They savaged us
And took our soil
And made it theirs
Through war not toil.
And set to us a charter
Of brutal taxation
Till Magna Carta.

These kings and queens
Whose lust is not abated
Still rule us from their
Ivory towers of our doom
And shoulder no responsibilities
For the crimes of their forefathers.
In which the ordinary man
His fate sealed
Was forced down
And made to kneel.
And the conspirators
Were disembowelled
For daring to raise
Their ignoble heads
Against their tyranny.


‘By hook and crook’.
We are ruled
Forced to relinquish
Our personal doom
To a power that is rapacious
And cares not a whit
About our lives
As long as we pay
Our imposed tithes.

And turncoats?
Well they are everywhere,
Seeking favour
Licking their arses
Fucking us over
For a pittance of power,
Bequeathed to them by
Their treacherous ancestors
And thus is the British Empire
Held together
By Quislings who in
Inclement weather
Sold us the rain
But not an umbrella.

Meet me at the Runnymede
Meet me on the Smithfield
Meet me at St John’s Field
Meet me at St Peters Field
Meet me at all them places
Where men have stood
And told these royal bastards
“I will not bend”
For the grass grows red there
With the stench of common blood.
Slaughtered by these Royalists
Who deem you all beneath them.

‘By hook and crook’.
We are not free
Of their infamous
Perfidy
Oh look its Kate and Harry
On the telly
Wave a flag
And forget their genocides.

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