Feed the World (The Grand Tour S02E11)

[Intro] (Rhythmic African percussion drums building up, heavy bass groove enters, acoustic guitar chords strumming) [Verse 1] The Cotswolds tent is standing in the British winter grey But the studio screen is flying to a continent away To the beaches of Mozambique where the Indian Ocean gleams Where the trio starts a mission built on crazy altruistic dreams [Verse 2] They want to feed the hungry towns that live inside the land By moving fresh caught ocean fish across the heavy sand A two-hundred kilometer journey through the wilderness so wide With three ridiculous vehicles and zero proper pride [Verse 3] Jeremy Clarkson chooses power, a Nissan pickup truck He mounts a giant ice machine to guarantee his luck It runs on a separate engine, heavy, loud, and bright To keep his fish completely frozen through the day and night [Verse 4] And James May is traditional, a old Mercedes-Benz A classic diesel sedan that he bought from taxi friends He cuts a hole into the boot and builds a saltwater tank To keep the fish alive and swimming by the river bank [Verse 5] But Richard Hammond has a bike, a tiny single-cylinder star A local TVS motorcycle to travel very far He clips two insulated boxes on the passenger frame Ready to ride the muddy tracks and win the fishy game [Verse 6] They pack the cargo at the coast, the sun is burning high The smell of fish and diesel oil is filling up the sky They head into the backcountry where asphalt disappears And turn into a gravel road that triggers heavy fears [Verse 7] The Nissan is so top-heavy, the ice machine is tall It shakes and rattles violently, about to slip and fall The water from the melting ice is spraying everywhere Leaving Jeremy in a state of wet and deep despair [Verse 8] The old Mercedes diesel engine has no proper speed It crawls across the bumpy tracks, ignoring every need The saltwater is splashing out from James’s heavy tank Soaking all the leather seats and making them look blank [Verse 9] But Richard has the worst of it upon his little bike He hits a hidden patch of sand that handles like a spike He crashes in the heavy dust, the boxes flying wide The fish are sliding through the dirt along the highway side [Verse 10] He picks them up and dusts them off, his clothes are completely torn Cursing the motorcycle from the moment he was born He falls again, he falls ten times, his knees are black and blue While Jeremy and James drive past, laughing at the view [Verse 11] The sun is going down now, the heat is getting worse The fresh fish in the vehicles are turning to a curse The smell is getting brutal, a rotting heavy cloud That follows three presenters and shocks the local crowd [Verse 12] Jeremy’s ice machine goes dead, the generator breaks The heat inside the pickup truck is raising up the stakes The ice is melting into slime, the cargo starts to spoil Mixing with the exhaust fumes and dirty engine oil [Verse 13] They finally reach the destination, a tiny country town But all the fish are ruined when they lay the boxes down The humanitarian experiment has turned into a leak A clumsy operation that was smelly, old, and weak [Verse 14] Back inside the Cotswolds tent, the crowd is laughing loud At the catastrophic rescue plans that shocked the African crowd They look at all the mud and slime and damage on the screen The worst delivery service that the world has ever seen [Verse 15] In Celebrity Face-Off, the battle lines are clear Two famous stars from television walk up with a cheer Dominic Monaghan and Jameela Jamil are racing for the crown To see who has the fastest lap time inside the British town [Verse 16] The seventh song is over, the fishy trip is done From the beaches of Maputo to the setting western sun The Grand Tour truck is packing, the engines roar out loud On to the next adventure, keeping petrolheads so proud [Verse 17] So play the Afro-blues rock and let the guitars scream The Mozambique delivery was a chaotic smelly dream Three presenters bickering about a rotting tail The grandest tour is rolling on where the wild tracks never fail [Outro] (Energetic Afro-rock percussion and guitar solo, heavy bass groove slitting, sound of a motorcycle engine sputtering out, final loud drum hit)