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Tuesday, February 15, 2011

The Ballad of John Hirst

The Ballad of John Hirst

With many cruel and brutal blows
I cut her mortal thread
The lady who had kindly put
A roof above my head.

Now her roof is a coffin lid
But do I feel remorse?
It's just 'a middle class concept'
And one I don't endorse.

Her human rights were trivial
Not worth consideration
But mine deserve enforcement
With the highest litigation.

Paid for and provided
By this self harming state,
While I sit here and smirk and sneer
While processing my hate.

[C'mon Billy Bragg put some music to it]

Government of the people, by the people, for the people?

And what of the democracy
The world once held in awe?
Who makes the rules by which we live?
Who makes the British Law?

A thousand years of struggle
To win one man one vote.
Will we now surrender this
To dictators far remote?

The people should elect the group
Good people should be found
To make the rules and pass the laws
By which we should be bound.

But now it seems the British will
Is irrelevant, second rate.
But who appoints these judges
Who now decide our fate?

Dictators there in Europe
For whom we didn¿t vote
Now make the laws of Britain
Which quite sticks in my throat.

These EU judges might reflect
When they support these knaves
That the freedom they take as a right
Was built on British graves.

It may not be diplomatic
But I think it's fair to say,
There'd be no such thing as human rights.
If Hitler had his sway.

What rights do all the good folk have
In a world turned upside down?
The Asylum¿s run by lunatics
In every British town.

I have the right to lock myself
In my own prison cell
While evil folk roam through the streets
Creating their own hell.

Source: Rambling Sid, Back in a dark, dark place, commented on 11-Feb-2011 10:08


Charles Cowling said...

A fine piece of balladeering.

Anonymous said...

There is a Hirst...
Who sounds mad first...
But when you think deeper
He's just a creeper...