The Full English Lyrics

Some people have the gift, I swear

Of making money from thin air.

It's not as if they need it,

They just like to breed it,

They like having it there.

I suppose it wasn't tactful

I asked for one small sack-full

But they don't like to share.

(And I said) 

 

I want some of it. I want some of it.

I want some of it. I want some of it.

I want some of it. I want some of it.

If it's all the same to you.

I want some of it. I want some of it.

I want some of it. I want some of it.

I want some of it. I want some of it

Too.

They called their private club 'G8'

They had the whole world on a plate,

And when they lost their tempers

The poor non-members

Just had to wait.

And when they had their meetings,

They ignored the bleatings

From outside the gate.

(And they said...)

 

We want some of it. We want some of it.

We want some of it. We want some of it.

We want some of it. We want some of it.

If it's all the same to you.

We want some of it. We want some of it.

We want some of it. We want some of it.

We want some of it. We want some of it

Too.

Ten thousand fields of standing wheat

That people would be glad to eat,

Just an over-production blunder

So they ploughed it all back under

Their feet.

But as the wind was shifting,

Angry sounds came drifting

Up from the street.

('Cause...)

They want some of it. They want some of it.

They want some of it. They want some of it.

They want some of it. They want some of it

If it's all the same to you.

They want some of it. They want some of it.

They want some of it. They want some of it.

They want some of it. They want some of it.

Too. (They want some of it too.)

We want some of it. We want some of it.

We want some of it. We want some of it.

We want some of it. We want some of it.

If it's all the same to you.

We want some of it. We want some of it.

We want some of it too.

A rabble-rouser about economics and anti-globalisation demonstrations, which eventually involves eighteen Judges in the sing-along chorus and subsequent disturbances.

Whatever they tell you, there's no world shortage of food; there's no world shortage of power. There's no world shortage of anything, except Money. And Money isn't real. A very little of it exists in the form of grubby scraps of paper, but most of the Money in the world only exists as figures on a VDU screen. It is brought into existence, or destroyed, by the tap of a finger. Come on, people, tap that finger. We want some of it!