Home Economics

Granny is starting to look pretty costly

At anywhere up to f500 a year

So even though she is capable, happy and lovely

Its out of the house cos it won't be so dear

And into the poll-tax-free state-run environment

Waiting for death in a small cosy room

We can visit her then and she'll make lots of friends

They'll be queuing for places so we'd better book soon

Charlie is eighteen there's no point in waiting

Forget all that learning and get a job fast

And a flat of your own cos the money's all blown

The family unit's a thing of the past

Well then my darling you'd better start working

Cos husbands are meant to pay tax for their wives

You could be an inspector or a poll tax collector

The only job open are the ones we despise

And the baby is due, maybe we should consider

Abortion, adoption or changing our name

Cos for each extra head there's a mouth to be fed

And the poll tax eats more than we've managed to save

By the year 1999 all these old friends of mine

Will be in prison or gone far away

For the tax's evasion, unable to pay them

Or just for the wanting of somewhere to stay

Of somewhere to stay

Of somewhere to stay

With Thatcher replacing the tiles on our roof

With demands for more money than we've ever got

We'll look back and wish we'd known more and resisted

The poll tax

Student loans

More cuts in benefits

All got together

All got together

All got together and said fuck the lot of it!

Fuck the lot of it!