At night the Baby Brotherhood and the Inter City Crew
|
Fill their pockets up with calling cards
|
And paint their faces red white and blue
|
Then they go out seeking different coloured faces
|
And anyone else that they can scare
|
And they salute the foes their fathers fought
|
By raising their right hands in the air
|
Oh look how my country's patriots are hunting down below
|
What do they know of England who only England know
|
|
From the stands of the Empire Stadium
|
Come the heralds of the New Dark Age
|
With the simplicities of bigotry
|
And to whom all the world's a stage
|
These little John Bullshits know that the press
|
Will glorify their feats
|
So that the general public fear them
|
And the authorities say give 'em all seats
|
And the wasted seed of the bulldog breed
|
Is shouting here we go
|
What do they know of England who only England know
|
|
Our neighbours shake their heads
|
And take their valuables inside
|
While my countrymen piss in the fountains
|
To express our national pride
|
And to prove to the world that England
|
Is just as rotten as she looks
|
They repeat the lies that caught their eyes
|
At school in history books
|
But the wars they think they're fighting
|
Were all over long ago
|
What do they know of England who only England know
|
|
And the society that spawned them
|
Just cries out Who's to blame?
|
And then wraps itself in the Union Jack
|
And just carries on the same
|
Oh look out, my country's patriots are hunting down below
|
What do they know of England who only England know
|
|
-----------------
|
The Few
|
| Billy Bragg |
