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Tell me who brought all this Hallowe'en?
When did Father Christmas become Santa?
Who told all these footballers to kneel, and
since when were there marathons for cancer?

Who said Black lives didn't bloody matter?
They're the ones who always bring up race.
What was wrong with how it used to be, when
we knew ours and they knew their place?

What about our little English girls?
Do they know that their lives matter too?
Does it cross their mind the way it feels
watching one's own race become the few?

Zionists and their LGBT-nonces,
Jews and Queers, have taken over Labour.
You'd have called me mad to say that, once. But
none in sane times grasses on his neighbours.

They're the mad ones in mandemic masks.
Cohen's virus ate their skulls out clean.
Show me where they're hiding all the caskets!
Now's the maddest England's ever been.

I remember as a little boy
Daddy used to sit me on his knee
and fill me bursting full of strength and wisdom.
In those moments I felt brave as He.

Far as I have strayed from Daddy's lap
I have never been so scared and lost.
I remember knowing who I was. Then
rot got in, now all the country's bost.

Every night with open heart I pray
Dad will make it like the good old days.
Dad was always brave and unafraid.
Dad will take the scary men away.

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