(Intro: acoustic guitar chords changing key) [Verse 1] If you think the rain is falling, It might be falling on the North. If you think the mills are calling, They've been calling since the war. And if you hear the engines slowing, Don't ask what happened to the trade— Someone moved the factory southward, Someone said we should be glad. [Chorus] It's only a protest song, It's only a protest song, And if you think there's nothing wrong, Well, you might be right— But you might be wrong. [Verse 2] Up in Newcastle, down in Leeds, In Glasgow where the cold wind feeds, They built the ships and dug the coal, They built the engines, laid the road. Then came the clever men in suits With clever plans and cheaper boots: “Your future's somewhere over there— Perhaps you'll find it if you care.” [Chorus] It's only a protest song, It's only a protest song, And if you think it sounds too strong, Turn it down— It won't be gone. [Verse 3] They laugh at accents on the telly, Laugh at flat caps, laugh at ale, Laugh because the vowels are different, Laugh because the jokes are stale. “Too provincial, too uncouth, Too bloody northern, that's the truth.” But every polished southern phrase Was warmed by northern coal for days. [Middle – sudden key change] And who built the railway? Who made the steel? Who turned the wheels That made the wheels? Who sent the ships Across the foam? Then shut the yard And called it home? [Verse 4] Now the papers shake their fingers: “Look at them, they never learn.” “Always moaning, always angry, Always waiting for their turn.” But when the cupboard's nearly empty And the landlord wants his due, Don't be shocked if someone's asking, “What's become of me and you?” [Chorus – another key change] It's only a protest song, A little northern sing-along. If the truth makes you uncomfortable, Turn the volume up— Or sing along. [Bridge – increasingly strange] Scotland's got a crooked mirror, Yorkshire's got a stubborn stone, Lancashire's got a Lancashire rose That somehow grew without permission. Liverpool's got ghosts in alleys, Glasgow's got a voice of steel, And Manchester keeps remembering Things they'd rather not reveal. [Final Verse] So here's a song for all the places That were useful once, then left behind, For the rough-edged hands and restless hearts, For the people they call unrefined. We don't need your polished pity, We don't need your patron's smile. You can keep your little kingdom— We'll keep ours a little while. [Final Chorus – key changes again] It's only a protest song, It's only a protest song, But if you think we've sung too long, That's the point— That's the song. [Outro – increasingly absurd, fading] Only a protest… Only a protest… Only a protest song… North by northwest, East by nowhere, South by Sunday, Home by Monday… Only a protest song. [Outro]
