BARD RECORDS

Tag: Lyrics

  • Diverse Country(Side)

    Diverse Country(Side)



    REBELLIOUSBARD

    Integration used to mean joining a country.
    When did it start meaning changing it for you?

    Diverse Country(Side) takes aim at what RebelliousBard sees as a profoundly one-sided version of integration: established customs repeatedly altered, renamed or restricted to accommodate people who arrived with cultures and beliefs of their own. From pubs and dogs to Christmas, schools and the countryside itself, the song’s argument is deliberately uncompromising. If living in Britain requires Britain to become less British in order to accommodate you, perhaps Britain was never the country you wanted to live in.

    Diverse Country(Side)



    ► RebelliousBard • Diverse Country(Side) • Please Sir, Can I have Some More?
    FOR THE RECORD

    Welcome to the new British countryside
    Where everything changes… but only in one direction

    They’re making the countryside diverse, y’know
    Planting flags from afar, watching the old ways go
    Dogs on leads? Better ban them quick
    Some folks don’t like them, so we all take the hit
    Pubs with pints and proper laughter in the air
    Now suddenly “problematic”, better not go there
    We twist our traditions, bend them till they snap
    While others keep theirs intact, no compromise, no crap

    One-way integration, the game is crystal clear
    We bend over backwards, year after fucking year

    Oh we change for you, sacrifice it all
    In our own fucking land we take the fall
    You arrive and we roll out the red carpet wide
    Pay the price while we smile and swallow our pride
    Islam won’t fit? That’s what they quietly say
    But it’s us who keep folding every single day
    One-way street, this integration game
    The West keeps bowing… what a pathetic shame

    Countryside hikes now scattered with prayer mats laid
    No more bacon sarnies in the summer shade
    Festivals toned down, the wild cheer restrained
    Culture clash? Best make ourselves fade
    Schools teaching tolerance, but only one direction
    Our own history quietly erased from the lesson
    We fund the new mosques, light up foreign nights
    While village churches slowly lose their lights

    Oh we change for you, sacrifice it all

    Burqas in the village pool, halal in the schools
    While our own traditions get treated like fools
    Holidays muted, no more Christmas cheer
    We give up our ways, year after year
    Time to wake up before it’s too late
    Reclaim what’s ours before it seals our fate

    Oh we change for you, sacrifice it all
    In the land our fathers built we take the fall
    You come as guests but we treat you like kings
    While the old country fades on broken wings
    One-way street, this integration game
    The West keeps bowing… what a fucking shame
    Diverse countryside… what the hell have we done?
    The old ways are dying… under the midday sun

    Diverse countryside
    We change for you
    Every single time
    What have we done?

    WHY THIS SONG EXISTS

    Diverse Country(Side) grew from recurring stories and public arguments about diversity reaching into increasingly ordinary parts of British life, including claims that the countryside itself is insufficiently diverse or inclusive. Around that sit the smaller controversies that accumulated into the song: changing familiar terminology in the name of inclusion, objections to dogs, alcohol and other established customs, and the expectation that British traditions should continually adapt around different religious or cultural sensitivities. RebelliousBard’s position is simple: integration should involve adapting to the country you chose to make your home, not demanding that the country continually dismantle its own customs to accommodate you.

    Please Sir, Can I Have Some More? RebelliousBard
  • The Sacred Cow

    The Sacred Cow



    REBELLIOUSBARD

    A public service should be judged by how well it serves the public.
    Not by how loudly we’re expected to worship it.

    The Sacred Cow attacks Britain’s habit of treating the NHS less like a healthcare system and more like a national religion. RebelliousBard rejects the idea that admiration for hardworking doctors and nurses should make the institution itself immune from criticism. Waiting lists, bureaucracy, political priorities and failing access cannot be answered forever with another appeal to sentiment. The public pays for the NHS, depends upon it when something goes wrong, and has every right to ask whether the system they are repeatedly told to cherish is actually delivering for them.

    The Sacred Cow



    ► RebelliousBard • The Sacred Cow • Please Sir, Can I have Some More?
    FOR THE RECORD

    The NHS Church our national religion
    Clap for carers now clap for the silence

    Sunday sermon on the news again says everything is fine
    Monday morning tells a different truth but they call that just design
    Waitlists shrink on paper charts patients vanish from the board
    Empty rooms look very healthy If you never look at wards
    The congregation keeps on clapping for a system out of breath
    Every miracle’s a statistic every delay a quiet death
    The altar’s built on paperwork the scripture’s made of forms
    And every broken promise gets rebranded as the norm

    We’re told it’s free We’re told it’s fair
    We’re told the truth is somewhere
    Floating safely in the air

    NHS Church bow your head Trust the figures not the bed
    NHS Church say amen hope you’re seen by them someday
    Clap for carers clap for pain Clap while nothing really changes
    NHS Church sacred name While the waiting list rearranges
    NHS Church don’t complain Faith is easier than facing it
    NHS Church hold the line while the system eats its own design

    White coats now the holy robes doctors turned to priests
    Policies like sacred texts while pressure never ceases
    Puberty blockers handed out in trials dressed as care
    A new commandment in the system but no one’s allowed to stare

    Foreign workers fill the rota while locals wait in queues
    They call it managed pressure you call it what you choose
    Free at point of use they chant it like scripture through the halls
    But nothing feels that free when the waiting system stalls
    And every question asked too loudly gets labelled out of line
    So silence becomes tradition and compliance feels divine

    Don’t question the cathedral don’t challenge what you see
    Just trust the growing altar of bureaucracy and plea

    NHS Church bow your head trust the figures not the bed
    NHS Church say amen hope you’re seen by them someday
    Clap for carers clap for pain clap while nothing really changes
    NHS Church sacred name while the waiting list rearranges
    NHS Church don’t complain faith is easier than facing it
    NHS Church hold the line while the system eats its own design

    Don’t tell me this is perfect don’t tell me it’s all right
    Don’t tell me every failure is something out of sight
    We see the empty corridors we see the endless wait
    We see decisions made above us then called complicated state
    You can’t call it untouchable and immune from any blame
    When people suffer quietly inside a broken frame

    NHS Church bow your head trust the figures not the bed
    NHS Church say amen how many wait until the end?
    Clap for carers clap for pain clap while everything collapses
    NHS Church sacred name built on promises and ashes
    NHS Church don’t complain truth gets buried in the branding
    NHS Church hold the line while reality stops landing
    NHS Church bow your head but nobody’s being saved
    NHS Church say amen to a system gone mislaid

    The NHS Church bow your head don’t ask questions just wait your turn

    WHY THIS SONG EXISTS

    The Sacred Cow was not prompted by one NHS scandal. It grew from frustration with the status the institution itself has acquired in British political culture: celebrated, defended and sometimes treated as though questioning its performance amounts to attacking the people who work inside it. The song rejects that emotional sleight of hand. Nurses and doctors can work extraordinarily hard inside a system that is still failing, and gratitude towards them does not settle questions about waiting times, bureaucracy, spending or who the system prioritises. For RebelliousBard, the NHS is not a church and criticism is not heresy. It is a publicly funded healthcare system, and it should be judged by what the public receives from it.

    Please Sir, Can I Have Some More? RebelliousBard
  • I Don’t Think You Have, Mate

    I Don’t Think You Have, Mate



    REBELLIOUSBARD

    What happens when the people asking for protection
    stop believing it will be applied equally?

    I Don’t Think You Have, Mate takes aim at the perception of two-tier policing in Britain, moving through protests, public disorder, speech and violent crime to question whether political sensitivity has begun to influence who receives scrutiny, sympathy and protection. Its title turns one brief exchange into the song’s refrain: a statement of disbelief becoming an accusation about trust in the institutions expected to enforce the law.

    I Don't Think You Have, Mate



    ► RebelliousBard • I Don’t Think You Have, Mate • Please Sir, Can I have Some More?
    FOR THE RECORD

    Flags in the street, but only the wrong ones get snatched
    Lads on the corner, they turn the other cheek
    While grannies get raided for a mean tweet
    “Community cohesion” that’s the brief

    One side throws bricks, gets a polite chat
    Other side waves a banner, riot van’s on the mat
    Stabbings in the park, but swift only on the chat
    Priorities twisted like a bureaucrat’s knot

    They kneel for the cause when the cameras roll
    But a kid on the ground? Just another patrol

    “I don’t think you have, mate” as the blood hits the floor
    “I’ve been stabbed” , “Nah, you’re fine, settle the score.”
    Handcuffs on the victim while the killer stands tall
    Two-tier justice, watching Britain fall

    “I don’t think you have, mate”, the words that kill
    Protect the narrative, ignore the spill
    From Southport to the streets, the pattern’s clear
    Don’t think you have rights… not if you’re from here

    Nowak on the pavement, bleeding out slow
    Told ’em straight up, but they already know
    Who to believe when the script’s been sold
    Racial abuse claim better safe than bold

    Rudakubana flowers? Nah, the real blooms of grief
    Ignored reports, hushed whispers, no relief
    Grooming gangs whisper while the papers sleep
    But a tweet gone viral? Full SWAT team

    “I don’t think you have, mate” as the blood hits the floor
    “I’ve been stabbed” – “Nah, you’re fine, settle the score.”
    Handcuffs on the victim while the killer stands tall
    Two-tier justice, watching Britain fall

    “I don’t think you have, mate” the words that kill
    Protect the narrative, ignore the spill
    From Southport to the streets, the pattern’s clear
    Don’t think you have rights… not if you’re from here

    One rule for the favoured, one for the rest
    “Far-right” label sticks to your chest
    While the real trouble hides behind the vest
    Of diversity quotas and fear of the press

    How many more Nowaks before they confess?
    The two tiers are cracking under the stress

    “I don’t think you have, mate…”
    “I don’t think you have…”
    Don’t think you have justice today

    WHY THIS SONG EXISTS

    The song was prompted by the case of Henry Nowak. After Nowak said that he had been stabbed while being detained by police, an officer responded, “I don’t think you have, mate.” That exchange became the title and central refrain of the song, and a starting point for its wider anger about policing, institutional judgement and the perception of unequal treatment under the law.

    Please Sir, Can I Have Some More? RebelliousBard