The Riot Of the OAPs

The crowd all chant the Prime Minister's name,
Grandad marches with them, angrily shaking his walking frame.
The police come and the riot begins,
Grandma starts pelting the horses with empty Steradent tins.

The government put VAT on fuel,
But Grandad will show them that's not so cool.
They're the OAPs,
They're from Eastbourne-On-Sea,
And they fight to be free.

They build a big pile of cardboard commodes,
Set them on fire as a burning barricade across the road.
The police radio, help's on its way,
The ambulance bus will come and take the old people away.
They want to have rights like in Germany,
Where pensioners have twice as much money.

They're the OAPs,
They're from Eastbourne On Sea,
And they fight to be free.