The waved out threadbare union flags
Lie amongst the fallen bunting
The bugle sounds it’s final call
For today’s their last day of hunting
We march en masse for Republica
Down the roads we own and built
Through industrial towns and village greens
Where swords were drawn and blood was spilt
We march en masse for Republica
Through green and pleasant lands
On a day in June when the flowers are in bloom
Soon to return to public hands
The jubilance of such disgusting wealth
Faded with the silver generation
This generation quickly evolved
And woke up to know there’s no justification
For one and one family one fortune
Accrued from doing nothing at all
While our Mams and Dads are celebrating
60 years with the square root of fuck all
We march en masse for Republica
And the tourists march at our side
The boot licking supplicants fall to their knees
Blinded by pomp in a mass class divide
Roll the cameras and roll up red carpets
Roll the reels from the old Pathe news
For today we appoint a real head of state
Elected by me and by you

About JB Barrington

The words & verse of JB Barrington; performance poet from Salford. Lovely stuff, touches heart strings and the odd raw nerve - Johnny Vegas Great poems; great delivery - Terry Christian A warm charm, a rapier wit and a real appreciation of words - Louder Than War
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