And They All Sang Rule Brittania. Poem by Charles M Moore

And they all sang Rule Brittania
We never will be slaves
As the government and bankers
Fill their pockets with the wage
The lower classes paid
With child poverty and crime
Well slave you are, and slave you”ll be
And slave you”ll die in time

The Army wants more fodder
So they travel round the slums
Encouraging the unemployed
To come and pick a gun
You”re fighting for your country
And you”re fighting for the crown
You”ll die for what you’ve never owned
And one whose not around

The bullets have a number
Like the one they gave to you
When your mother cried in childbirth
The one you need to prove
Who you are, and where you”re from
They don”t want you to get lost
All the votes get counted
And you”re just another cross

You never will be one of them
You”ll never be that grand
The ruling class are there to rule
And own the working man
And provide him with subsistence
Just enough to fill his plate
They would”nt want to spoil you
You might forget your place

So let”s sing Rule Brittania
Once again for old times sake
Then join hands and strike the band
And march through freedoms gate
And throw the scoundrels out
Who own the land where you are chained
Then maybe you can sing out
That you won”t be slaves again

And they all sang Rule Brittania.