Hard Times Waltz

At long last here are the lyrics. Music is now available. Please leave a comment should you want it sent to you. All rights reserved, see earlier blog for terms and video of the first and last performance. Lets hope this song has a short shelf life. Judging by the lack of any responses to date it looks as though this will be the case.


Hard times they have come to old England
Hard times they have come round again
We are told that it’s going to get better
But we know that they do not know when.

Now those banks that were once built of marble
With a cash point at every door
Have run out of loans of our money
And alls quiet on the factory floor
And those vaults that were once filled with silver
Have been swapped for derivative bets
But the bookies have all done a runner
Leaving us with the gift of their debts
Now we all should have seen what was coming
But our jobs seemed quite safe at the time
And we are now being robbed of our warm homes
But no ones been charged with a crime

Chorus

Now our nation is said to be wealthy
Second homes second cars plastic yachts
But the bailiffs came round, did a clear out
Now my life being sold in three lots
Now those banks that were all kept oh! so shiny
Are now owned by you and by me
But they still won’t lend us our money
Or tell us our banking is free
So who has got all of our money?
And where have those bankers all gone?
Perhaps they are hiding and hoping
That no one joins in with this song

Chorus

Is the spirit of Albion sleeping?
Is it time to strike up on Drakes Drum?
Do you think that King Arthur will hear us?
To rise from his slumbers and come
Will the monkeys still stay on Gibraltar?
And the ravens not fly from the tower?
Will Nelson set sail to our rescue?
To control those great levers of power
Will some heroes stand for election?
Will they know what they really must do?
Will they keep to their word, and surprise us
And pull poor old Albion through?

Chorus

But we mustn’t get sad and downhearted
We must pick ourselves up from the floor
Keep an eye on those banks of fake marble
And the man with the key to the door.
Yes, the boom has gone bust and the bust has gone boom
And the profits have melted away
And it’s now we must join together
And win back a bright shiny day
Because the people who have all the answers
With the power to make dreams come true
Are here with us standing together
Yes, the people of BRITAIN it’s you!

‘I expect you will be going home for the Bank Holiday weekend, Jackie?’

‘ Nice of you to ask Gordon, but with it being the bank holiday I thought I’d spend a few quiet days at my second home in the country.’
‘Now that would be, don’t tell me, in Worcestershire, the town where the main industry used to be pins and needles and where Enfield motorbikes used to be made. Isn’t it now a centre for the prison industry?’ Must go Jackie, got a U -Tube thing to do.’

Meanwhile back in Redditch, the lounge has been really well tidied up, the children are wondering if this will be the time that mummy takes them back home with her, leaving behind the verdant pastures and sun soaked valleys of what has become more of a way of life for them, rather than a holiday.

Somewhere on the M4 near Swindon, Rupert is passing the time while stuck in a tail back by raising the question of whether they should still be bothering with their hideaway second home. Once they were part of the ‘zonely’ brigade. ‘Darling, you must visit one weekend, its zonely 2 hours drive from the Hammersmith fly-over.’

‘Jocasta? I suppose we really need to keep the cottage on? What with the capital gains tax implications, the need to get the holiday lets booked up, the business rates now we let it from Easter through to November, and the continuous increases in the contents and buildings insurance? Not to mention inheritance tax. It was so much better when we could afford to leave it empty for most of the year.
‘No Rupert!, the children love our occasional weekends there and besides, if things get any worse at County and Ripoff Securities, we may really need to use it as a hideaway. Especially when the depositors and shareholders realize we’ve been having ‘bank’ holidays on them for years.
Rupert looks very depressed. ‘Well darling, we already have one home, surely that’s enough. It’s not as though we have any connection with the place or actually know anyone, let alone do things in the community. Think of all those people out there with only very tiny homes, or the few with no homes at all. There must be a way round it. Of course! Working for the community! I’ll stand for Parliament! The present old boy is retiring, going to the House of Lords for services to blustering or something. We could leave the kids in the cottage with a nanny. Things would be so much simpler.’

Jocasta’s’ eyes light up, ‘And we could sell the Putney house before values fall any lower and move in with my sister and get one of those allowance thing- a- me- jigs for the cottage. Perfect!.’

Meanwhile, in a Bed and Breakfast, in nearby Swindon, the homeless persons legislation is getting good nights sleep.

Dacier

( See my earlier item in response to Mark Thomas and his Peoples Manifesto. A slightly more detailed analysis of the second homes debate will follow shortly.)