Post by Mitch on May 8, 2006 19:08:34 GMT
Many will know Jack round these parts. His poetry is so good I don't think he'll mind me sharing one or two with you. 
(Fred, I've more that Jack has sent you. He wanted me to pass them on specially to you - let Michele & me know when you're free for a visit!)
Where are we now. Or, its only MONEY.
Its only money, we pass from hand to hand,
That's created the hate from land to land.
Its only the money, we get in our wages,
That's created the trouble, through the ages.
Throughout time there as never been,
A robbery like the one we've seen.
Silent and menacing, calculated plunder.
By those who would seek to keep us under.
Why didn't the government act we ask?
Why didn't the government do its task.
Because they're part of a plan that's there,
To give to the rich, and the needy millionaire
(John Major said)
We will not devalue, that's not our intention,
An higher interest rate, that's media invention.
A new monetary unit, we are going to invent,
The homeless, !Oh they can live in a tent.
They are going to float the British Pound.
Perhaps! more for the poor, this time around.
No, only a promise of more unemployed.
Must the working class be, destroyed.?
A long forgotten promise, "A Land Fit for Heroes"
What have we got, a fistful of Zero's.
Our industries have been totally decimated.
Since they came to power, not one job's been created.
Apathy rules amongst the working masses.
There is NO difference in the British classes.
Those who are unemployed, are well looked after.
Equality is their aim, do I hear laughter.
Legislation, and the law, is now here,
To stop the capitalist in their fear,
Of a working class that is full of fight.
They have destroyed, the workers every right.
So many unemployed, nothing is made,
No manufacturing industry to do any trade.
How could we ever be a wealthy nation,
When all that we know is distraught devastation.
Television, the radio, and the daily newspapers to,
They never tell the truth ,to me, or to you.
They measure to allow the things you've got,
You don't use your brain, its starting to rot.
You can go out to work, and earn your pound,
To help stop the rent chap from coming around.
Now pay your Poll Tax, don't you dare grouse,
Its the same for his lordship, in the big house.
Back in the fifties, when everyone paid rent,
The interest rate was never immanent.
Now there's many owners, paying mortgage due,
Can this percentage figure, really be true.
Sit there you minions, sit there and be quiet,
You know, we don't like you, when you riot.
Can you teach your kids, oh what a suggestion,
You know education is out of the question
The schools, the hospitals, transport, and such,
There's no money for these, you expect to much.
We may have to make war, kill a few people,
Our priorities are right, we won't appear feeble.
The privatisation plans that the Tories have made,
Mean a lot less employment in the future I'm afraid
A profit must be made from everything that we do,
Even while his lordship sits and dreams on the loo.
The gambling speculators, they must be stopped,
Their damnable ways with money, must be dropped.
They are the cause of hate ,and humiliation,
They are the downfall, of this once proud nation.
Going into Europe, may give some advantage,
Could it give the poor, a living wage.
What do they mean, that's not quite right,
Europe's to give the rich a bigger bite
Down through the years that's always been true,
The rich without mercy, the poor they will screw.
Our fathers before us, fighting for king and glory.
Just to save the rich, its the same old story.
In the nineteenth century when cotton was the thing,
Each and every mill owner living like a king.
There in his mansion, with his butler and groom.
His weavers, starving, living ten to a room.
Pay us more money, we have no cash,
"Stop all your moaning, or to India we'll dash".
The workers they fight to stop living back to back.
But the mills they close, and the machines they pack.
Another demand was for old king coal,
But the mines they suffer from lack of an overhaul.
Children, men, and donkey's endure down that hole.
You've got a disease, then get on the dole.
Sickness, heartache, no hope at all,
Trying to manage, with less than the dole.
We hear these were called the good old days,
And its still the same today, in so many ways.
Back to the present.
More and more people, out of work every week,
This recession, makes things look so bleak.
Although some reports paint another picture,
There's more millionaires, the rich get richer.
They import coal, its bought so cheap,
To defeat the miners, its bought by the heap.
They shut all the pits, and any profit keep,
They decide to put this industry to sleep.
Transport , mining, other industries to.
Being sent abroad to be made for you.
There is over four million now on the dole.
Yet still the rich are having a ball.
Unions are thwarted, by law, they can't unite.
How the hell, can we help to put things right.
How do we stop this workers prostitution
Surely we don't need another revolution.
Men of Britain, raise your heads in splendour.
The task we face, knows no surrender.
From the evil rich we must save this nation,
That's our only chance in this situation.
Sept 92
(Fred, I've more that Jack has sent you. He wanted me to pass them on specially to you - let Michele & me know when you're free for a visit!)
Where are we now. Or, its only MONEY.
Its only money, we pass from hand to hand,
That's created the hate from land to land.
Its only the money, we get in our wages,
That's created the trouble, through the ages.
Throughout time there as never been,
A robbery like the one we've seen.
Silent and menacing, calculated plunder.
By those who would seek to keep us under.
Why didn't the government act we ask?
Why didn't the government do its task.
Because they're part of a plan that's there,
To give to the rich, and the needy millionaire
(John Major said)
We will not devalue, that's not our intention,
An higher interest rate, that's media invention.
A new monetary unit, we are going to invent,
The homeless, !Oh they can live in a tent.
They are going to float the British Pound.
Perhaps! more for the poor, this time around.
No, only a promise of more unemployed.
Must the working class be, destroyed.?
A long forgotten promise, "A Land Fit for Heroes"
What have we got, a fistful of Zero's.
Our industries have been totally decimated.
Since they came to power, not one job's been created.
Apathy rules amongst the working masses.
There is NO difference in the British classes.
Those who are unemployed, are well looked after.
Equality is their aim, do I hear laughter.
Legislation, and the law, is now here,
To stop the capitalist in their fear,
Of a working class that is full of fight.
They have destroyed, the workers every right.
So many unemployed, nothing is made,
No manufacturing industry to do any trade.
How could we ever be a wealthy nation,
When all that we know is distraught devastation.
Television, the radio, and the daily newspapers to,
They never tell the truth ,to me, or to you.
They measure to allow the things you've got,
You don't use your brain, its starting to rot.
You can go out to work, and earn your pound,
To help stop the rent chap from coming around.
Now pay your Poll Tax, don't you dare grouse,
Its the same for his lordship, in the big house.
Back in the fifties, when everyone paid rent,
The interest rate was never immanent.
Now there's many owners, paying mortgage due,
Can this percentage figure, really be true.
Sit there you minions, sit there and be quiet,
You know, we don't like you, when you riot.
Can you teach your kids, oh what a suggestion,
You know education is out of the question
The schools, the hospitals, transport, and such,
There's no money for these, you expect to much.
We may have to make war, kill a few people,
Our priorities are right, we won't appear feeble.
The privatisation plans that the Tories have made,
Mean a lot less employment in the future I'm afraid
A profit must be made from everything that we do,
Even while his lordship sits and dreams on the loo.
The gambling speculators, they must be stopped,
Their damnable ways with money, must be dropped.
They are the cause of hate ,and humiliation,
They are the downfall, of this once proud nation.
Going into Europe, may give some advantage,
Could it give the poor, a living wage.
What do they mean, that's not quite right,
Europe's to give the rich a bigger bite
Down through the years that's always been true,
The rich without mercy, the poor they will screw.
Our fathers before us, fighting for king and glory.
Just to save the rich, its the same old story.
In the nineteenth century when cotton was the thing,
Each and every mill owner living like a king.
There in his mansion, with his butler and groom.
His weavers, starving, living ten to a room.
Pay us more money, we have no cash,
"Stop all your moaning, or to India we'll dash".
The workers they fight to stop living back to back.
But the mills they close, and the machines they pack.
Another demand was for old king coal,
But the mines they suffer from lack of an overhaul.
Children, men, and donkey's endure down that hole.
You've got a disease, then get on the dole.
Sickness, heartache, no hope at all,
Trying to manage, with less than the dole.
We hear these were called the good old days,
And its still the same today, in so many ways.
Back to the present.
More and more people, out of work every week,
This recession, makes things look so bleak.
Although some reports paint another picture,
There's more millionaires, the rich get richer.
They import coal, its bought so cheap,
To defeat the miners, its bought by the heap.
They shut all the pits, and any profit keep,
They decide to put this industry to sleep.
Transport , mining, other industries to.
Being sent abroad to be made for you.
There is over four million now on the dole.
Yet still the rich are having a ball.
Unions are thwarted, by law, they can't unite.
How the hell, can we help to put things right.
How do we stop this workers prostitution
Surely we don't need another revolution.
Men of Britain, raise your heads in splendour.
The task we face, knows no surrender.
From the evil rich we must save this nation,
That's our only chance in this situation.
Sept 92
