The aul woman down the street, in my mind a saint.
You probably know her in some way, awk you do, you'd know her face.
Well, something's come over her terribly as of late
Cause despite a victory, furiously claimed,
She's still fucking irate.

Gnashing her teeth, gesticulating wildly,
If you dared to even question or ask her to explain why.
There's just no talking to her.
She pointed to the boy on the TV.
A plant hand-picked by the BBC with whom she wholeheartedly agreed
When he said it needed to be gotten on with, taken back, or wrenched back from control,
But what it was, she didnt know.
Sure now you go down the town and it's a rotten hole, she said,
All them ones on the dole,
Or those who have the auadacity to ask her if she'd like a magazine,
"I saw her with four debit cards, she gets nothin from me" she'd scream.

Is this who we are?

That's nothing compared to her mate,
Who nodded along and said she'd be absolutely be fine with
Putting less food on the plate,
As long as the Somali family she read about online in something a friend sent to her, well,
They on't get to make a claim
It's a damn shame, where this country's going, she said.
Let's take it back to a version where it was golden instead.

One she never lived in, but one she was told of by her aul one,
Where they stiffed it out tough as the Germans were bombing.
Thousands died, and food was rationed,
Yet the ones in Parliament were doing just fine.
They were asking us where's our British pride?
Chin up, shoulders back, we're all in this they'd say,
As they'd retreat to their state homes while her ma toiled away.

At least the pride part, that's all grandma remembers,
reading it on a wartime poster somewhere.

Suddenly Alfie across the road is
very keen on where fishermen can take their boats.
He picks up the paper and seethes about how the French hate us
Despite the fact that we once saved them, he says,
Though he never even lifted a finger.

Now he reckons he's on the front lines.
After having never seen war in his whole life,
Made fat from the spoils of war,
He's looking for a fight because he's bored,
And the papers are filling his mind with insane shite.

I just want the aul ones back
I just want the aul ones back
I just want the aul ones back
I just want the aul ones back

I'm sorry I don't have flowery language,
Nor space for verifiable figures,
And as ironic as it seems,
I'm just going off on how I feel.
But I just want the aul ones back.
Down the street, in the shop, at the table,
And I know you do too,
Cause they've been sold on a fable,
Those same ones that raised you.