Shivering Britain Two Thousand And Eight!
</>Shivering Britain Two Thousand and Eight
An old woman sits on her own every day
All of her family live far away.
She starts to remember when she was a lass
Of happier times with no British Gas
Just a trusty old Gas Board
Who cared for the old
And no way, not ever, would let her be cold.
But now it’s all changed, and profits come first
And fat cat bosses, oh how their cursed!
Mr Brown he does nothing, the usual farce
Sits on the fence, and sits on his arse.
They stand up in parliament, do nothing but spout
They leave it to us, to stand up and shout, but our shouting
gets nowhere, even call me a loafer
while the boss at BG awaits for his chauffer.
To ferry him home to his mansion so fine
To HIS nice cosy warm home and lashings of wine,
Then he’ll go to his bed where he’ll sleep and dream merry
Whilst the millions like me lie awake with the worry.
But what does an old woman like me know of prices
Crude oil, the economy, and other such vices?
The weatherman says that tonight it will freeze
As with gnarled feeble hands I cover my knees.
The Britain I knew, I know it no more
There’s no room in this country
If like me you are poor
I should go on “The social” where everything’s free
But we just can’t do it, the old ones like me.
We have guts, we have pride, of mind we are sound
As I look in my purse at my last lonely pound
And as death draws nearer I whisper my prayers
And dream of a heaven
Where somebody cares.