KEEP CALM AND CARRY THE CORPSE

KEEP CALM AND CARRY THE CORPSE

Britain bleeds through cracked red bricks,
Rain on windows, cold that sticks.
Bills climb high, wages crawl,
We’re taxed to the teeth — can’t breathe at all.



“Keep calm and carry the corpse,” they say.
Drag it through life, day after day.
Smile for the cameras, wave the flag,
Ignore the stench in the body bag.



Politicians promise — lies on repeat,
Champagne toasts while we scrape for heat.
Immigration headlines scream in red,
But the landlords win and the rich get fed.



“Keep calm and carry the corpse,” on the news.
Britain’s being sold in tailor-made shoes.
Blame the stranger, hide the theft,
Pick the bones of what’s still left.



Borders closed, then borders wide,
Policies flip like a turning tide.
We point at strangers, curse the crowd,
While thieves in suits just laugh out loud.



Hospitals full, trains don’t run,
Knife-edge living — no place to run.
Kids go hungry, rents insane,
Everyone’s tired, numb with pain.



Britain’s “Great”? Just ask the street,
Where dreams and diesel always meet.
We’ve got flags on coffins, flags on cans,
But no plan left for working hands.



“Keep calm and carry the corpse,” they chant.
Pray for hope we’ll never grant.
But no calm, no crown, no quiet prayer —
Just tired voices shouting: We were there.

We won’t keep calm, we won’t comply,
We’ve buried too much, we’ve watched too many die.
No silence now, no bow to kings —
This is the roar that history brings.

The corpse is heavy, the stench is deep —
But we’ve woken up from Britain’s sleep.
No calm. No corpse. No chains. No fear.
We rise. We shout. We’re still here.

Copyright © Sam Russell | Year Posted 2025

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