#tmtch

Watch out for the tricks and lies,  Watch out for the Old School Ties. Stab you in the back, with a blood soaked pen.

The Men They Couldn’t Hang

Fill the sails, mill the corn. From a sigh, a howl is born.

Did I dream of the homelands, so distantly remembered Of warmth, work, welfare, peace for all?

A timber bar I staggered in, by the wall in West Berlin, The barman looks, and shoots a steely glance. ‘Are you a friend, of the British Government?’ I proudly replied, ‘Not a chance’. ‘Das ist gud,’ he says with cheer, and he fills me up with beer, Tonight we’re gonna celebrate the dance.

And the north sea winds are bitter. And the sky is painted grey. And the waves are coming bigger, And the strong men start, to pray.

And so we learn from history generations have to fight And those who crave for mastery, must be faced down on sight And if that means by words, by fists, by stones or by the gun Remember those who stood up for, their daughters and their sons Listen to the sound of marching feet And the voices of the ghosts of Cable Street Fists and stones and batons and the gun With courage we shall beat those blackshirts down