I sleep fitfully on Brexit Eve. I wake early on Brexit day and catch an earlier bus. I feel like a child waking on Christmas morning and find lumps of coal in sack at the end of the bed. I have been a bad boy all my life. I have been tolerant have let people live their lives according to their hopes, needs and desires. I do not think that any particular philosophy or belief have an innate right to be seen as superior or better. I do not think that my country right or wrong is a valid dictum. I know that there is no such thing as race. I know the history of my country with all its warts . I love continental philosophy and culture and i know its warts as well. I celebrate Milton , Chaucer and Shakespeare. And i wonder maliciously how many of the little Englanders have ever read or would understand the words and language they used. Wordsworth we have become your "stagnant fen" have you ever read any of this literature Mr Farage? Have you ever wondered what you have done? I feel a profound sadness for the poison pen letter of article 60.
This is a letter off the old, the bitter, the inward looking . There is no celebration today, no celebration of our diversity, our multicultural , multiethnic society that has been like that for 10,000 years. It is not a letter that celebrates the languages spoken on this island Welsh, Gaelic, Urdu, Kernow and Yiddish, amongst many others. There is no coming together..There is a moving apart. Scotland, Northern Ireland , Wales even Cornwall look at ways to get themselves from this 'kipper paradise' we have become. The fog in the channel is cutting off Europe from us. The Mail's headline ,'Freedom" is the freedom of blandness, sameness and intolerance, the freedom to be prejudiced , xenophobic and narrow. Long ago i heard the song by Emerson, Lake and Palmer it ended with the line " the CHRISTMAS WE GET WE DESERVE" the problem is that today we are getting the Brexit that the hard right has given us .Bit it is not what we deserve or need. The sack left at the end of the bed by a purple robed Santa Farage.In that sack is a society doomed to the market economy, poor services, lousy civil rights and privatisation. We do not deserve these gifts.....Adam Smith put it this way he said we are putting the clocks back 70 years he is right....
They sold you a dream of Brexit
They sold me a silent night
And they told me a fairy story
'till I believed in the ukipite
And you believed in fNigel Farage
And you looked to the sky with excited eyes
'till you woke with a yawn in the first light of dawn
And I saw him and through his disguise
They sold me a silent night
And they told me a fairy story
'till I believed in the ukipite
And you believed in fNigel Farage
And you looked to the sky with excited eyes
'till you woke with a yawn in the first light of dawn
And I saw him and through his disguise
Great article! The lyrics appear to be similar to the one I posted a while ago, I wonder? If they are, I 'm just glad someone is using them.
ReplyDeleteHere is my full version:
They sold you the lie of Brexit
They said you'll get sovereignty back
But instead the bullshit kept flowing
A veil of deciet from the Tory's crack
I remember on that June morning
reason drowned out by Satan's choir
The peal of Eton's bell and that bullshit smell
elite British eyes full of desire
They sold you a dream of Brexit
soon they'll tell you to be silent by day and by night
because the working man believed a fairy story
and continued to believe in the far right
And you believed all the sad old people
though stupidity flowed from their mouths and eyes
you woke on the 24th morn you didn't see darkness with dawn
And you still didn't see through their disguise
I wish you had listened to reason
cos' you'll be shafted in the coming years
Nothing to look forward to, but sadness and madness
there'll be mounting debt and you'll be locked in arrears
They said you'll be free on Brexit
but all you've fuelled is Tory mirth
Hallelujah the Eton bell, you're all going to hell
It's Brexit and you've got what you deserve!
Original lyrics by Greg Lake
Adapted by Dafydd ap Gwilym 2016.