Charity begins at home.
Apparently it ends in the Channel.
Stop the (Orange) Boats reflects the growing backlash against the RNLI’s role in transporting Channel migrants to Britain. For many people, the orange lifeboat has shifted from a symbol of traditional maritime rescue to one of immigration policy by proxy. RebelliousBard doesn’t argue that donations should be compulsory expressions of virtue. Quite the opposite. If a charity chooses a mission that donors no longer support, donors are equally free to close their wallets. The song is less about lifeboats than it is about consent: who decides where charitable money should ultimately end up, and what happens when the public simply says, “No more.”
Orange boat
Collection tin
Save a life
Bring them in
Orange boat, white lie, collection tin
“Saving lives” while they bring them in
Not a storm, not a wreck, not lost at sea
They left from France deliberately
Two ports said no and the truth got thin
Found a slipway, walked them in
Coaches waiting, system alive
Another successful rescue
Apparently.
You can stop a hull when you want it stopped
You can land a hull when you want it dropped
Call it mercy, call it grace
Just don’t shake that tin in my fucking face
Don’t put a penny in the tin
Don’t buy the halo, don’t swallow the hymn
They’re not lost sailors, they’re not the drowned
They’re a taxi with a saintly sound
You don’t know who’s coming through
You don’t know what they’ve come here to do
Then ask the British public to pay?
Not one penny.
Not today.
High-vis angels on the evening news
Orange jackets, same excuse
Tasked by Coastguard, off they go
Pick them up and bring them home
No papers needed out at sea
No background check, no guarantee
Rapists and killers have crossed this way
But I’m the bastard if I won’t pay
Call them heroes
Call me cruel
Funny little funding rule
You choose the mission
You choose the game
I choose whether I finance the same
Don’t put a penny in the tin
Don’t buy the halo, don’t swallow the hymn
They’re not lost sailors, they’re not the drowned
They’re a taxi with a saintly sound
Name it plain so the room goes still
Migrant traffickers
With a charity till
Once that orange boat meant hope
Storm at sea and a rescue rope
Fisherman missing, yacht gone down
Launch the crew and bring them round
That’s the tin that Britain filled
That’s the trust that Britain built
Now the Channel changed the deal
And donors get to say how they feel
Voluntary means I choose
That’s the bit you seem to lose
Want my money?
Change the route
Otherwise
Count me out.
They’ll sell you a drowning
That never quite was
They’ll sell you a halo
For doing the job
They’ll call it compassion
They’ll call it the law
While another orange hull
Heads back for the shore
And if asking where my money goes
Makes me heartless
Fine.
My wallet seems remarkably calm.
Keep the posters
Keep the plea
Keep your direct debit away from me
No collection
No applause
No compulsory charitable cause
If enough of Britain shuts the tin
Maybe somebody finally listens
Don’t put a penny in the tin
Don’t fund the boats that bring them in
Don’t buy the halo, don’t swallow the hymn
Orange outside, border service within
Call them heroes if that’s your view
Put your own bloody money through
Mine stays firmly where it’s been
Not one penny
In the tin.
Keep your coin
Keep your name
Let the orange boat
Earn its shame
Want the message?
Here it is.
DON’T.
DONATE.
TO THIS.