Coward of the Country

 (My one and only attempt at musical satire, written months after it ceased to be relevant. Words by Floppybootstomp with absolutely no input from Kenny Rogers at all)

 

Everyone considered him the champion of the Sky-Bid

He never said one single time that monopoly was wrong

His momma called him David but folks just called him useless

Something always told me he was a good Bullingdon boy

 

In office for ten minutes and he bottles the decision

Because Rupe’s a friend to Tories and they both got along

I still recall the final words that Murdoch said to Cameron:

‘The News of the World is history but my Sky-Bid must go on’

 

Promise me Dave not to leave my work undone

Remember all my favours if you can

The Sun comes out each day I can make our friendship pay

I hope your phone’s encrypted if you can’t

 

Sometimes your wallet needs an extra grand

There is someone for everyone and Dave obeyed Rebekah

With her lies he didn’t have to serve the common man

One day when he was working the Guardian boys came calling

They exposed Rebekah and the nasty Murdoch press

 

Dave opened up the door and saw Rebekah hiding

Her perjured heart, her shredded files was more than he could stand

He reached above the fireplace to take down Rupert’s picture

As he thought of legal loopholes he heard those words again

 

Promise me Dave not to leave my work undone

Remember all my favours if you can

The Times comes out each day I can make our friendship pay

I hope your phone’s encrypted if you can’t

 

Sometimes your wallet needs an extra grand

 

The house of commons laughed at him as he walked into the chamber

Or that idiot weasel Milliband? I really can’t be sure

He said he’d not refer the bid to the monopolies commission

but you could have heard a pin drop when he u-turned and ran away

 

20 years of crawling were bottled up inside him

But he knew that for the Murdochs he would crawl for 20 more

If Rupe got what he wanted he would finally be somebody

And if he didn’t get it, the Daily Mail would step in

 

And I heard him say:

 

Promise me Rupe not to drop me in the soup

Remember all my favours if you can

The Sun comes out each day I’ll do anything you say

Lat me stick my tongue up your behind

 

I’m the bestest little toady you will find

 

Everyone considered him the champion of the Sky-Bid

 

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About floppybootstomp

Lecturer, teacher, writer and traveller all perfectly good nouns aren't they? Do they have anything to do with me? Ask the taxman.

Posted on November 8, 2011, in Fiction and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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