What do you actually mean by that?
If you see an adult with a metal detector, you know that something’s terribly wrong.
If you hear a Tory on about statues, you know it won’t be long
Before we’re mentioned…
We’re The Woke Mob, apparently, the cause of all your problems.
We don’t have chants or banners, we just hum fey indie anthems.
The tabloids tell you Be Afraid if we’re in your vicinity
Battering police with leaflets on Toxic Masculinity
We’re The Woke Mob, apparently, my mate just called me a TERF
I wasn’t quite sure what it was, but I think I kept my nerve.
Right-wingers blame us for moral weakness and sedition
But we couldn’t organise a raffle, let alone a revolution
We’re the Woke Mob, apparently.
Gammons on our Facebook say we threaten their right to speak
Though they say it all day, every day for nineteen days a week.
They spout the same old phrases, even though they’re thick as Bisto
In the quaint belief we’re sent to war by Bernadine Evaristo.
We’re the Woke Mob, apparently, made up mainly of teachers
Feminists, artists, writers and Church of England vicars,
Veggies, singers, actors and folk who want to save the planet,
frightening the living shit out of fat blokes in Thanet.
We’re the Woke Mob, apparently.
We’re the Woke Mob, apparently, we stick in Rees-Mogg’s craw;
the decadent aliens with that red Volvo next door
Apparently, we’re everywhere, a threat to British values
When we’re not enraging Lawrence Fox or smashing slavers’ statues
We’re the Woke Mob, apparently, beloved of right wing vultures;
They peck the bones of half-truths, bleating on about Cancel Culture.
They’re light on examples but heavy on the bile.
Don’t mention inequality or they’ll scream and run a mile
From the Woke Mob, apparently.
Apparently everything’s our fault, apparently, we’re the ones in charge,
though we’ve lost more elections than Nigel Farage
We’re armed with chants and milkshakes, while they’ve got clubs and guns
It’s always us that ends up killed, but they swear we’re the deadly ones.
Toby Young on Twitter, bless him, isn’t in any doubt;
Inclusivity makes him feel left out.
We’re the Woke Mob, apparently, because we hate injustice.
I’m not sure quite what’s wrong with that; maybe ask George Eustice.
Apparently, we’re the slippy slope that drives you to a gulag,
When we couldn’t punch our way out of a farm-shop paper bag.
Privileged white men want to silence us in the name of free speech
But we’re lethal as the donkey rides on Scarborough’s North Beach.
We’re the Woke Mob, apparently.
