This is not my England (Draca are here)

This is not my England

flags held aloft like middle fingers

tracksuit crusaders spewing hate

that bitter after taste that lingers

"we're full up mate,

there's no room here

England is bursting at the seams"

says someone repeating lies verbatim

a sleeping Dragon's burning dream

the flags transparent, cheap and nasty

thin rhetoric, like polyester

opaque resentment, open grudges

nursed with dirt and left to fester

but none love England quite enough

to buy a proper flag in cotton

not even old fashioned patriotism

just nationalism, frayed and rotten

each empty white square has potential

the four corners of this green land

for those who brave the wasteful ocean

and leave their footprints in the sand

on England's map mark 'here be Dragons'

for they rule us all by spreading fear

no this is not a fairy tale

make no mistake Draca are here

when you threaten women and frighten children

you reveal your sickness and your fear

how far is too far, too far right ?

right there's the line that you passed here

you can cable tie yourself in knots

domestic violence you don't shout about

degrading flags, like plastic bags

wonky red lines slapped on roundabouts

when i see the provocative Ulstarisation

of the council estate where I grew up

it makes me want to wind down windows

and shout 'please stop, just think and stop'

for the Shire is scorched, debates dried up

as slumbering dragons snort and tut

as England sleep walks into darkness

sneering Wyvern top the anger up

I am not saying close the wall up

with our English dead

better to overwhelm with Bella Ciao

then pry through the portage of the head

i stood here first when in my 20s

in my 30s I prayed this all would end

In despair i returned in my 40's

once more unto the breach dear friends

and yet here I am at 54

hypertension summon up the blood

the fascist far right are emboldened

stiffen the sinews as we should

don't let Dragons teach you to despise

they'll steer your mind and steal your dreams

then fill your heart with empty lies

till poison bursts out at the seams

for they is them, not you or I

they send the working class to die

to die in wars that fill their coffers

while we survive on special offers

some flag bearers are not from this city

where pilgrims fled from persecution

they were sent by greedy fascist lizards

who pocketed their contribution

no noble lustre in fascist lies

but on the side I stand I see

Al Khadir's Christian compassion

Jesus himself was a refugee

dishonour not your mothers now

those fathers who did you beget

less frantic boast and foolish words

a humble heart, lest we forget

we can't decide where to be born

It is not something we can chose

but we can all refuse to hate

so all you fascists are bound to lose

the toxic press the English ruin

they wind us up like clockwork toys

fermented lies they have been brewing

on nights out with the Eton boys

Dragons skim the profits up

and rob our pockets, take our pubs

wither our will until we're spoon fed

pacify us with cheap grub

this is not our England

reformed from traitors on the grift

like a transformer made from an old Allegro

or other British Leyland shit

for they are them, not you or I

they want us to fight and be distracted

then they'll take our rights and liberty

and corrupt bills will be enacted

this England, this other Eden

this blessed plot, this sceptred isle

this diamond when the seas are rough

the three lions that fight with pride

yes this could be our England

no greedy dragons taking over

no Lord or masters stealing land

or bowing heads as they fly over

for it's my flag too

and this country is

much more than the sum of you and me

free speech is no excuse for violence

mindless stupid barbarity

England has become a Dragons haven

an immoral den of iniquity

where a handful of billionaires horde it all

class war forged in antiquity

yet it doesn't have to be like this

as they lay sprawled out across our gold

the smirking dragons all despise us

their hearts and nests are hard and cold

follow your spirit, and upon this charge

join a team in which we all are players

cry 'God for England, and Saint George!'

an England full of Dragon slayers