The Procession Of Popular Capitalism

Up and down the Strand I strolled around penniless But there were pockets to pick Beneath the hot august sun When suddenly the sound of singing and laughter arose in the distance And it drew me towards it And as I drew closer I could hear the song they sang, "This is your country too! Join our procession That's marching onwards to war" I could see them I saw how rich they all were At the the head of the gang were Top civil servants and captains of industry With well-manicured hands and greasy smiles enticing the populous "Come buy our shares! Who will buy our shares? For this is your country too!" A great procession was marching onwards to war A man on the dole stood cursing them all He told everyone not to be taken in But at the orders of one of the marchers policemen Came and beat him to the floor Along Whitehall these dubious characters stared Picking up more and more people MP's, careerists and god's oppressed senators With the sweetest of smiles they held out piggy banks to little children But as they took them the stomping stamping feet trampled them underneath "This is your country too!" A great procession was marching onwards to war "Come along buy your council home" They said to a half-dead mother of ten "With (?) on our side we've reason to smile" They said to a tramp in a pool of alcohol On and on their maniac laughs And their marching beat scaring the night