Re-post of 2025 version with slight edits.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And did Old England once, play by the rules,

That nation of shopkeepers, honest folk,

Who shunned smooth-talking charlatans and fools?

Once, solidarity broke tyrants’ yolk,

When Yeomens’ sabres slashed at Peterloo,

When Murder wore the Mask of Anarchy,

When on Cable Street, at the Workers’ Waterloo,

The Blackshirts’ arrogance met with Unity.

 

The Many now must rally to defend

Our rights from fiends in innocent blood so drenched:

No hands extend to Genocide’s good Friend,

Arabia’s perfumes cannot hide that stench.

For Number Ten’s become a butcher’s shop,

Where Britons’ hard-won freedoms face the chop.