Johnny England

Johnny England So who allowed the foreign grey to drive the British red away? While running freely up our trees they eat the food and spread disease. While further north it’s worse than that, extinction for the dear wild-cat. Moggies of a different strand can wander freely on their land... That kind of thing is never good, it leads to mixing of the blood. It’s much the same with woodland too, trees should be British through and through ‘cos don’t-y’-know it’s beech and oak make lovely walks for gentle folk. Those foresters with foreign firs are philistines or tasteless curs. Thank God the matter’s well in hand with vigilantes round the land combining their almighty might to put these dreadful things to right with battle cries that ring profound like... “British life on British ground!” *** There’s many deeds do-gooders do but, Johnny England, none for you. You were not asked and not informed your land would change, your town transformed. As populace swells uncontrolled, “It’s good for growth,” so you are told by boss and banker as they strut and plan new ways to undercut your hard fought wage and meagre share with labour brought from, “over there.” Traditions too must dampen down lest they offend and cause a frown on someone’s face who chose to be where once you felt relaxed and free. As services come under strain it’s you that has to bear the pain, and not a thing that you can do for no one gives a damn for you. For, Johnny... you’re not cute you see like cat and squirrel – or a tree.