Porky Pigs in Porton Down

took a bullet for the Crown.

All our wounds look the same

the pigs are dead the men are lame...

 

Argies beneath trench duck boards

cut to meat by youthful hordes,

there were no geese upon the green

when sun came up, the slaughter seen...

 

Again, we're getting battle ready

our leaders brash, drunk faux-heady,

building ships, crafting hate

collectively whipping up The State...

 

I am nonchalant about

all the shite they scream and shout,

because we've been here be-fuckin-for

trigger happy for a War...