Bring Him Home (For Julian)

The multi award winning journalist Julian Assange is currently being held 
in a British prison pending the outcome of an extradition request from
the USA

Governments, discover your spines
Set him free!
Parliamentarians, find your voices
Set him free!
Writers, unshackle your chains
Set him free!
Judiciary, honour your profession
Set him free!
Empire, search for your soul
Set him free!
Mothers, offer your protection
Set him free!
Fathers, summon up your courage
Set him free!
People, wield your power
Bring him home!

Copyright: FishyLyrics 2020



The Truth Teller (For Julian)

(The journalist and publisher Julian Assange is currently being held in a
British jail pending the outcome of an extradition request from the USA)

The truth teller lies alone in his cell, all rights and freedoms to him forbidden
For the crime of revealing that which would be concealed, unearthing that which would be hidden
As vicious smears and wicked lies are formed to sully and defame
To assassinate his character, to brutally scar his name

Whilst with bitterness, with malice, with injured criminal pride
An ugly empire coerces, bribes and bullies, casts morality aside
And pays those pipers willing to play its sinful tune
Orchestrates the dance for dollars from the devil's own ballroom

Break the man, kill his message and may the truth go rot in hell
The memorandum sent by bloodstained hands so that others dare not tell
A chilling message sent to silence, a threat which plainly says
That the just side of the law may not protect you if the empire gets its way

If exposure of a crime can in itself as a crime be seen
And if the perpetrator of that misdeed can as well the very prosecutor be
If the innocent may wane in jail and the criminal may guard the jailer's key
Then what mad fools have we become to accept such fantasy

For those whose pens seem dry of ink, for those whose voices fail
For those perched on the illusory fence of compromise, beware the rusty nail
Truth is truth and all variants are but letters littered in a phoney text
Throw Julian to the wolves and they're coming for you next

Copyright: FishyLyrics 2019

Oh Palestine, dear Palestine

Oh Palestine, dear Palestine
How my heart aches for thee
So cruel a world we live in
That permits such tyranny
Your homeland signed away to another
To provide a sanctuary
Who could have known the persecuted
Would so soon the persecutor be
Oh Palestine, dear Palestine
How my heart bleeds for thee
Walls and wire now strangle the air
Where the lungs of freedom used to breathe
Your people incarcerated in human corrals 
Trapped like goldfish in a bowl
A temporal jailhouse for their bodies
An eternal prison for their souls

Oh Palestine, dear Palestine
How my heart burns for thee
It burns with anger deep and red
It burns with indignity
But above all it burns with a peerless pride
At a spirit that won't be quelled
At a people that shall not be broken
At a will of iron held
At a life of resistance all consuming
As the toll of martyrs yearly climbs
At your honour and your virtue
Your enduring faith in heartless times
Oh Palestine, dear Palestine
One day you will once again be free
And a land stolen will be returned 
From the river to the sea

Copyright: Fishylyrics - 2019

Tell Harry That I Love Him

(This poem was written on behalf of my daughter Mollie to the lifelong British socialist, political activist and NHS campaigner Harry Leslie Smith after he was taken in to hospital with a life threatening condition. Harry died shortly afterwards aged 95)
Tell Harry that I love him
Please tell him that I care
Tell him that I'm worried
If not a little scared
Tell him of my admiration
Of how I respect his honesty
How I treasure what he's told me
About his life, his history
Tell him that I've watched his Labour conference speech
Until I know it off by heart
That I carry it within me
Though we are generations apart
Thank him for his words that painted pictures
So that I could be informed
About a life almost unimagined
Before I was ever born
Tell him I'll hold him in my memory
As long as it may last
But mostly, please tell him that I love him
Whatever may come to pass

Copyright: Fishylyrics 2019


If I had my time again

If I had my time again, I often wonder what I'd be
Not that I'm complaining, life's been pretty good to me
I've earned  enough to pay the bills and buy the kids some treats
I've put in the hours, grafted hard, can show the blisters on my feet

It's just that some folks seem to find it easy to bring in the moolah
With cushy jobs that get them big pads and fancy cars
Not that I'm the jealous type, but I still can't help but dream
If lady luck had dealt different cards how life might have been

Maybe I'd have been a footballer on three hundred grand a week
Although I don't fancy all that winter stuff in rain and snow and sleet
And what if I was only decent and not a superstar
I'm not sure the lads at Accrington drive around in jaguars

Or a DJ at the Beeb, that wouldn't be so bad
There's a pretty penny to be made, just ask the ginger lad
But could I really stomach Jedward or Donny and Marie
And what if I copped the early morning shift to start at half past three

A politician's life seems easy, all hot air, sex and booze
And expenses by the thousands for anything you choose
But I'm a bit rough around the edges and I think that it might tell
And I'm not sure my debating style would go down very well

I might even consider something dodgy as long as I didn't go to jail
With big bucks, perks and bonuses where it's impossible to fail
A no lose game, caviar, champagne and a guarantee of wages by the million
So, ... if I had my time again I'd be a director at Carillion

Copyright: Fishylyrics 2018

Persimmon, Jeff Fairburn and the unholy stink of capital

Jeff Fairburn, remember the name 
His life will never be the same again 
Caught in the spotlight of the camera's eye 
With a seventy five million pound bonus he couldn't deny

Couldn't deny, could barely speak 
As he slithered out of shot so mild and meek 
Leaving unspoken words polluting the air 
With a gargantuan stink from capital's lair 

The lifetime earnings of seventy men 
Signed off with a casual swipe of the pen 
And another eight hundred million spread around his chums 
What houses that might build, just do the sums 

Jeff, I'm sure in your world you're held in much high esteem 
For the way in which you used "The Help to Buy" scheme 
To jack up house prices subsidised by the tax of the many 
And syphon off the profits to make the few a pretty penny 

But in my world you're a thief, simple and plain 
Abusing a rigged system for personal gain 
And from this day on until you meet your god 
You'll just be Jeff Fairburn - that greedy sod! 

Copyright: Fishylyrics 2018


For Razan(In memory of Razan al-Najjar)

Ask not which Private fired the gun
That sent this sweet child to Martyrdom
Neither search the Sergeant’s name
Who lined up his troops to kill and maim
Demand not investigation, nor seek any testimony
For the guilty party is already plain to see
No rogue bullet left its chamber, no errant shot was discharged
And no words should be written that serve as camouflage
Half truths are lies and nothing more and should not be set in print
And I bear no stain of prejudice when penning honest words in ink
This was killing by instruction, homicide as policy
Yet one more wanton, heartless act in Zion history
So accuse me not of antisemitism for no race test do I fail
When I place in the dock for murder the State of Is-ra-el

Copyright: Fishylyrics 2018