Twelve weeks to stop the diggers
We are but Common people.
You can see the furrows in our brows.
We only want to protect what is ours
And has been ours for centuries.
We only want to revel in what we love.
We hate change, of course we hate change
Oh how we hate the passing of the seasons.
It makes us cold.
They try to silence us
But they haven’t cut our tongues.
We threaten revolution
With every breath. We
bang drums. We
can even change our diction.
And when they threaten, we roar.