Songs to Riot To

There was much guffawing a few weeks ago when Call Me Dave mentioned how this one was one of his favourite tunes; no real surprise there, I’ve yet to meet a posh person who understands popular music.

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3 Responses to Songs to Riot To

  1. Daftburger says:

    Doesn’t Dave do irony? Probably gets his Polish maid to do it bdum tsh!

    Probably identifies with ‘Left me standing – like a guilty school boy’ unless ‘Eton Rifles’ is a euphemism for buggery!

    Setting Sons what an LP!

    Sup up your beer and collect your fags,
    There’s a row going on down near Slough,
    get out your mat and pray to the West,
    I’ll get out mine and pray for myself.
    Thought you were smart when you took them on,
    But you didn’t take a peep in their artillery room,
    All that rugby puts hairs on your chest,
    What chance have you got against a tie and a crest.
    Hello-hurrah – what a nice day – for the Eton Rifles,
    Hello-hurrah – I hope rain stops play – with the Eton Rifles.
    Thought you were clever when you lift the fuse,
    Tore down the house of commons in your brand new shoes,
    Composed a revolutionary symphony,
    Then went to bed with a charming young thing.
    Hello-hurrah – cheers then mate – it’s the Eton Rifles,
    Hello-hurrah – an extremist scrape – with the Eton Rifles.
    What a catalyst you turned out to be,
    Loaded the guns then you run off home for your tea,
    Left me standing – like a guilty schoolboy.
    We came out of it naturally the worst,
    Beaten and bloody and I was sick down my shirt,
    We were no match for their untamed wit,
    Though some of the lads said they’ll be back next week.
    Hello-hurrah – there’s a price to pay – to the Eton Rifles,
    Hello-hurrah – I’d prefer the plague – to the Eton Rifles.
    Hello-hurrah – there’s a price to pay – to the Eton Rifles,
    Hello-hurrah – I’d prefer the plague – to the Eton Rifles.

  2. Stephen Foster says:

    By the time I had finished with Setting Sons you could see though it.

  3. Daftburger says:

    *through 😉

    It still resonates now dunner it. A post for tomorrow? Wilfred Owen eat your heart out. 😦

    Its funny how you never knew what my name was,
    Our only contact was a form for the election.
    These days I find that I don’t listen,
    These days I find that we’re out of touch,
    These days I find that I’m too busy,
    So why the attention now you want my assistance –
    What have you done for me.

    You’ve gone and got yourself in trouble,
    No you want me to help you out.

    These days I find that I can’t be bothered,
    These days I find that its all too much,
    To pick up a gun and shoot a stranger,
    But I’ve got no choice so here I come – war games.

    I’m up on the hills, playing little boy soldiers,
    Reconnaissance duty up at 5:30.
    Shoot shoot shoot and kill the natives,
    You’re one of us and we love you for that.

    Think of honour, Queen and country,
    You’re a blessed son of the British Empire,
    God’s on our side and so is Washington.

    Come out on the hills with the little boy soldiers.

    Come on outside – I’ll sing you a lullaby,
    Or tell a tale of how goodness prevailed.

    We ruled the world – we killed and robbed,
    The fucking lot – but we don’t feel bad.

    It was done beneath the flag of democracy,
    You’ll believe and I do – yes I do – yes I do –
    yes I do –

    These days I find that I can’t be bothered,
    To argue with or well, what’s the point?
    Better to take your shots and drop down dead,
    then they send you home in a pine overcoat

    With a letter to your mum

    Saying find enclosed one son – one medal and a note –
    to say he won.

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