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- Jul 11, 2004
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Tommy Today
By John A Silkstone
Apologies to Rudyard Kipling and his poem Tommy
I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The landlord said, “Come in lad, and have some gradl'y cheer.”
I thanked him for his welcome, while I wore my suit of khaki.
“There’s no politicians in here,” he said, “so no need for malarkey.
We have everything you want and we’ll always see you reet,
Not like that lot in parliament who sit on that green seat.
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.
That lot they sent you off to war with nought upon your feet.
You walk cross brown stony soil, they walk on flat paved street.
Your webbing is not up to much, not like in days gone by
They can’t afford to buy the best, the prices are too high.
MPs sit in their big house with their head stuck up their arse
While foreigners stand upon our streets, jeering troops as they march pass.
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.
Prime Minister sits in number 10 a smile upon his face
While this once great land is now in ruins, a bungling disgrace
The countries nearly bankrupt, so up the VAT must go
But giving to other countries, our cash must flow and flow.
So listen you politicians and you Whitehall men,
Just think about poor Tommy, every now and then.
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees
By John A Silkstone
Apologies to Rudyard Kipling and his poem Tommy
I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The landlord said, “Come in lad, and have some gradl'y cheer.”
I thanked him for his welcome, while I wore my suit of khaki.
“There’s no politicians in here,” he said, “so no need for malarkey.
We have everything you want and we’ll always see you reet,
Not like that lot in parliament who sit on that green seat.
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.
That lot they sent you off to war with nought upon your feet.
You walk cross brown stony soil, they walk on flat paved street.
Your webbing is not up to much, not like in days gone by
They can’t afford to buy the best, the prices are too high.
MPs sit in their big house with their head stuck up their arse
While foreigners stand upon our streets, jeering troops as they march pass.
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.
Prime Minister sits in number 10 a smile upon his face
While this once great land is now in ruins, a bungling disgrace
The countries nearly bankrupt, so up the VAT must go
But giving to other countries, our cash must flow and flow.
So listen you politicians and you Whitehall men,
Just think about poor Tommy, every now and then.
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees
