These Boots Won’t Get To Woking

 

You keep saying you got something for us
Something called Brexit but confess
You just keep sayin’ Brexit means Brexit
And no-one knows what is coming next

These boots won’t get to Woking
Never mind London
Where the hell is Nigel
Oh he’s such a little cunt

You keep hidin’ when you oughta be marchin’
You keep lying in your hotel bed
You keep snorin’ when you oughta be a’megaphonin’
That’s right, that’s right, that’s right ya get

These boots won’t get to Woking
Never mind London
Where the hell is Nigel
Oh he’s such a little cunt

You keep playing where you shouldn’t be playing
And you keep thinking that you’ll never get burnt (HAH)
I just found me a brand new box of matches (YEAH)
And I’m gonna set fire to your hotel curtains

These boots won’t get to Woking
Never mind London
Where the hell is Nigel
Oh he’s such a little cunt

Are you ready, boots? Start kickin’

 

from the album A ‘B’ Road by Half Bam Half Whisky, available here:

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