CANTANTE: Crass

TITULO:Sheep Farming In The Falklands

Sheep farming in the falklands, re-arming in the fucklands
fucking sheep in the homelands, her majesty's forces are coming
sheep farming in the falklands, re-arming in the fucklands
fucking sheep in the homelands, her majesty's forces are coming
sheep farming in the falklands, re-arming in the fucklands
fucking sheep in the homelands, her majesty's forces are coming
Fuck off to the falklands for your sea-faring fun
big man's jerk off dreamland, looking down the barrel of a gun
friggin' in the riggin' another imperialist farce
another page of british history to wipe the national arse
the royals donated prince andrew as a show of their support
was it just luck the only ship that wasn't struck was the one on which he fought?
three cheers for good old andy, let's take a pic for his mum
and stick it up the royal, stick it up the royal, stick it up the royal album
Sheep farming in the falklands, re-arming in the fucklands
fucking sheep in the homelands, her majesty's forces are coming
Onward thatcher's soldiers, it's your job to fight...
"and, you know, i don't really give a toss if the cause is wrong or right,
my political neck means more to me than the lives of a thousand men,
if i felt it might be of use to me i'd do it all over again.
the falklands was really a coverup job to obscured the mistakes i've made,
and you know i think gamble i took could certainly be said to have paid.
with unemployment at an all-time high and the country falling apart
i, winston thatcher, reign supreme in this great nations' heart."
Sheep farming in the falklands, re-arming in the fucklands
fucking sheep in the homelands, her majesty's forces are coming
While the men who fought her battles are still expected to suffer
thatcher proves in parliament that she's just a fucking nutter
the iron lady's proved her metal, has struck with her fist of steel
has proved that a heart that is made out of lead is a heart that doesn't feel
Sheep farming in the falklands, re-arming in the fucklands
fucking sheep in the homelands, her majesty's forces are coming
Now thatcher says... "oh raunchy ron, we've fought our war
now it's your turn to prove yourself in el salvador
i've employed micheal heseltine to deal with p.r.
he's an absolute prick, but a media star
he'll advocate the wisdom of our cruise missile plan
then at last i'll have a penis just like every other man
they can call it penis envy, but they'll pay the price for it...
but the peasants are hungry mags, "let them eat shit"
Sheep farming in the falklands, re-arming in the fucklands
fucking sheep in the homelands, her majesty's forces are coming
Who the fuck cares, we're all having fun?
mums and dads happy as their kids play with guns
the media loved it, when all's said and done...
"britain's bulldog's off the leash" said the sun
as the argies and brits got crippled or died
the bulldog turned around and crapped in our eyes.
brit wit, hypocrite, don't you yet realise
you're not playing with toys, you're playing with lives...
you piss straight up in your self-righteous rage
wilfs, goms and gimps in the nuclear age
four minute warning, what a shock,
well balls to you rocket cock
you're old and you're ill and you're soon going to die
you've got nothing to lose if you fill up the skies
you'd take us all with you, yeah, it's tough at the top
you slop bucket, shit filled, puss ridden, death pimp snot..yah fuck