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Song for our times 'The Great Plague of London'


Jockey

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THE GREAT PLAGUE OF LONDON

 

In just one man's life, no more than sixty-five,

the sickness spread so far and so wide.

We dreamt we'd stopped it at the gates of Vienna;

seems that it came up the Thames on a flood-tide.

Like long ago when a horse was Troy's hammer blow,

traitors at home had them flooding in;

 vile unnatural men hiding beneath Big Ben.

So millions got in, along with their next of kin.

 

Hey father! Hey wife! see your boy has a knife!

You talk of respect but you mean fear;

I saw you struttin' as I stode down Holloway Road.

Pity the people here that you domineer.

Lifetimes are short, why should folk put up with your sort?

How many white kids would be alive?

Take the  coppers' gloves off, fewer deaths a good payoff.

And so the decent strive to see all the good survive.

 

It wont be very long 'til folk ask: ‘What went wrong?’

E’n tho’ cheated by the numbers game,

Four million awoke in two thousand and fifteen!

Maybe, just maybe, things wont remain the same.

I hear you sold Tom's medals on ebay I'm told;

Granpa sold himself dear I am sure.

You sold 'em so very cheap that it made me blush and weep;

And he the patriot pure, whose story you make obscure.

 

When Blair gets to hell, because  surely he will

and Stalin boils nearby on a spit:

Stalin will say: "You moved more’n I accounted for.

Still, my country is fit while yours is split."

They will replace the road-signs by Buckingham Palace

While many men speak of civil war;

for a grubby football shirt for sale to anyone to girt.

'What a country!'  they roar, sold cheap, nothing to pay for.

 

 

Some march about health and worry about wealth.

Can't they see millions of reasons why?

Whole schools and hospitals without an Englishman in ‘em.

I will show you where no white will dare to walk.

They will replace our faith and law; terror our fate;

a plain truth some will not recognise.

All for a low wage rate, leading to this smouldering hate,

our people sacrificed when we could have built paradise.

 

CHORUS:

Plague! Plague!

Great Plague of London.

A new dark age;

White people leaving in droves.

Plague! Plague!

Great Plague of London.

A new dark age!

 

You can hear it here if you like


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