why seek the route that travails far
in my backyard the pickings are all there
but can't be arsed to oil the wheels
when the main man pays a dollar for nothing
and a roof over blondie and Jason

let the continentals be baristas for my coffee
a sub-continental can offer me a sickie
come to my land and serve I don't say Sir
mate you go earn your keep and do sweeping
my mates are waiting and it cheers all round

so who wants to be the boss of what
down my way equality is living of the scrounge
I take it as I find it and hell I am son of the land
let me sit and write across the sea
send my venting to those blue rinses
better they think they are for effort is merit
better I am with the vandals of the streets

I don't have you don't have
all's equal in war and love
my pain becomes your distress
cos in that grand scheme of things
its power in grubby hands to ruin and rack
let's drink and be merry
like Robin Hood in Sherwood forestry

I may be down here and I am proud
for to all and sundry I am the plank
that you walk on before you fall into the sea
that's my joy
a **** plank but still I count
three cheers for the bottom feeders
one day we will find our way
leave the injuns to run the show
get me a beer and a whole load
of hate
burning hate
my food for my station