The Peasants are Revolting
So yes, alright, we held a vote,
That didn’t go our way –
But now we have to honour it ?
I never thought I’d hear the day
When self-proclaiming liberals
Have lost the great paternal arts !
Call ourselves the lefties ?
We’re just a bunch of bleeding hearts !
Just spin some condescending line
That this must be ignored.
After all, the citizens
As just some bolshy horde
Who never should have had the chance
To have a say at all, I say –
This braying and ungrateful mass
Are far too thick and grey.
And not forgetting racist !
They see us as a threat –
Let’s tell them how we hate them
At ev’ry chance we get.
But they pay no attention,
They’re trapped within their bubble –
They’ve listened to the wrong propaganda,
That’s the trouble.
But then again, it’s not their fault,
They have been swayed by clever lies –
They should have done what they were told
By those of us more calm and wise.
They’ve fallen for the passionate and positive
With not a sneer,
They swallowed ev’ry promise made,
Ignored our ev’ry scoff and smear.
Well yes, they have it hard – it can’t be helped,
There always must be fools
To stack the shelves and clean the loos,
And fill the special-measures schools –
But really, it’s their own fault, anyway,
That they’re so poor –
If only they would learn their place
And never ask for more !
Don’t they know we’re lefties ?
We’re the ones who really care –
We agonise about them over coffee,
Then we like and share.
But they are mindless zombies
Which the tabloids hold in thrall.
(Not us, of course, we see through that –
For we are special, after all.)
They’re flattered when a candidate had deemed to ask them
What they thought,
And dazzled when an orator had spoken up
For what they sought –
But most of all, confused at how
They finally possessed a voice –
And these are who we let loose with a vote ?
It’s anarchy by choice !