Mr Robinson

No time for you, Mr. Robinson
Jesus loves you less than you would know
Woe woe woe

God help me please, Mr. Robinson
Heaven holds no place for those who hate
Hate Hate Hate, Hate Hate Hate

Here you are in Manchester spouting your pathetic shite

We'd like to help you learn to go fuck yourself
Look around you all you see are unsympathetic eyes
Stroll around our town but we won’t make you feel at home

No time for you, Mr. Robinson
Jesus loves you less than you would know
Woe woe woe

God help me please, Mr. Robinson
Heaven holds no place for those who hate
Hate Hate Hate, Hate Hate Hate

Take your racist diatribe and get out of our town

Put it in the place where sun never shines

We’re not interested in this Robinson affair

Don’t need protecting from the Muslims or the Yids

Koo-koo-ka-choo, Mr. Robinson,
Jesus loves you less than you would know

Woe woe woe
God help me please, Mr. Robinson

Heaven holds no place for those who hate
Hate Hate Hate, Hate Hate Hate

Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon
Going to the MEP debate
Laugh about it, shout about it
If you’re all we got to choose

Every way you look at this we lose

Its a sad day for the English race

When our nation turns its lonely eyes to you
Wu wu wu

What's that you say, Mr. Robinson
We’ve heard enough, fuck off and go away

Hey, Hey, Hey, Go away

© John Mcdonough

Woman pushing a pram accuses Tommy Robinson of 'spouting sh**e' about Muslims as he desperately tries to justify himself on visit to Salford

John Mcdonough

John has been writing poetry for 30 years. His style is urban/performance poetry. He subtitles his spoken word for the benefit of the hard of hearing and those that struggle with dialect, John's is Mancunian.

What shall we do with him?

What shall we do with him? We shall not speak his name.

No stage for his infamy, no soap box for his claims.

One - Bring back the death penalty for hate crimes this vile.

Two - Dispense with the time and cost of trial.

After all what is the point of dragging this out.

The manifesto, the live stream, establish beyond doubt.

That he, we shall not speak his name.

Is guilty, guilty, guilty of this terrible shame.

He has shown no remorse and no repentance

So, I propose, that we move straight to sentence

Just as he did on that darkest day

Murder in his mind, when he set out to slay

Deny him a platform, deny him a voice

Don’t give him an option, don’t give him a choice

Don’t waste one bent penny or one red cent 

Keeping him warm, dry and fed in a secure apartment

Don’t allow this bitter, spiteful narcissist

To become a beacon for other extremists

Erase him from history an unmarked grave

The good things we could do with the money we save

Tear down the barricades between race and creed

Build byways and bridges and plant a seed

Promote diversity, unify our communities

Build a memorial to peace, love and unity

© John McDonough

Christchurch shootings: Ardern vows never to say gunman's name

John has been writing poetry for 30 years. His style is urban/performance poetry. He subtitles his spoken word for the benefit of the hard of hearing and those that struggle with dialect, John's is Mancunian.

Was it a waste of an egg?

Was it a waste of an egg?

The one that broke on your head

Made you blow like a powder keg

Maybe Fraser

Catapulted into the limelight

But not in a good light

The figurehead of the far right

Defending murder your kind perpetrate

You dare to suggest that the victims of hate

Were somehow the architects of their own fate?

Are you crazy Fraser?

I could understand if you had blamed the devastation

Of the Indigenous Australian population

On white migrants and white immigration

As this statement rings true

In fact it was people like you

And your pastoral kin, who

In a greedy bid to exploit and expand

“Hunted blacks” and stole their land

Kidnapped their boys to work as hands

That’s slavery Fraser

So we come full circle and the question I beg

Is, was it really a waste of an egg?

Not the egg that broke on your head

But the egg your Father impregnated

The egg your Mother gestated

The egg from which you were created

Because let’s face it Fraser

The worlds a better place Fraser

Without Racists like you Fraser

© John McDonough

Australian senator Fraser Anning punches teen after being egged

John has been writing poetry for 30 years. His style is urban/performance poetry. He subtitles his spoken word for the benefit of the hard of hearing and those that struggle with dialect, John's is Mancunian.

A Woman without her man ♀

For IWD 2019 let's consider the following:

"A woman ...

            ... without her man ...

                        ... is less than nothing"

At first sight the words appear as chauvinistic text

But without proper punctuation, they lack conviction and context

Let's make a simple change to get #BalanceForBetter

By punctuating the spaces between the words and letters

Add a colon here, a comma there and the macho huffing and puffing

Becomes "A Woman:

                            without her,

                                    man is less than nothing"

© John McDonough

International Women’s Day 2019 – A global push for gender equality

John has been writing poetry for 30 years. His style is urban/performance poetry. He subtitles his spoken word for the benefit of the hard of hearing and those that struggle with dialect, his is Mancunian.

Ee By Gum

Ee by gum, what will become

Of ISIS mum, Shamima Begum

She pleads ...

I was only fifteen young and naive

When I packed up my bags and decided to leave

But as it turns out I was tricked and deceived

By ISIS propaganda and glossy make believe

I had a good time in Syria but lately it's rough

So I want to come home now cos I've had enough

I'd appreciate some sympathy as I've had it tough

Please come get me, my baby, my baggage and stuff

The Kurdish don't want me nor do the Dutch

The Bangladeshis have not yet been in touch

All I have are these straws at which I clutch

Cos I'm certain the Brits don't like me that much

In fact I'm fairly sure that I am despised

On account of the fact that I'm radicalised

And thought the Ariana Grande atrocity was justified

You know a tooth for tooth and an eye for an eye

Ee by gum, what will become

Of Isis Mum Shamima Begum

© John Mcdonough

Shamima Begum: 'We should live in Holland' says IS husband

John has been writing poetry for 30 years. His style is urban/performance poetry. He subtitles his spoken word for the benefit of the hard of hearing and those that struggle with dialect, John's is Mancunian.