[Intro: spoken British swagger] Alright, you lot—it's that time again! [Distorted guitar stab, building drum roll] [Shouted] Let the hunt begin! [Full band kicks in] [Verse 1: tight groove, half-spoken sneer] Roll up, right-wing hopefuls, Get your bloody money's worth! There's a gobshite born each minute And they reckon they run Earth. Keep 'em in their echo chambers, Let 'em stew in their own chat. Pour their own opinions over— “Bang on, mate! Imagine that!” Feed the itch and sell the scratching, Keep the rash and blame next door. If the cure would lose a customer, What d'you need a cure for? [Pre-Chorus: clipped, rising] Keep it simple. No—simpler, son. One face to hate. One job done. [Chorus: shouted hook, gang responses] It's gobshite season! Round 'em up! Round 'em up! Don't need a reason— Just a bigger bloody truck! More! More! Every last one! Polling day is coming—get the picking done! It's gobshite season! Can't get enough! [Verse 2: bouncing bass, sarcastic salesman] Got a queue outside the clinic? Blame the bloke who just moved in. Never mind who cut the funding— That's a grim place to begin. “Can we talk about the budget? Keep our healthcare free instead?” Let the clever bastard finish— Then: “That's what she said!” [Gang laughter, guitar stab] Any facts that spoil the patter? “Posh twat! Get another round!” Why debate a boring number When a joke brings the house down? [Pre-Chorus: stop-start] Keep it simple. No—simpler still. Point at someone. Pass the bill. [Chorus: shouted hook, gang responses] It's gobshite season! Round 'em up! Round 'em up! Don't need a reason— Just a bigger bloody truck! More! More! Every last one! Polling day is coming—get the picking done! It's gobshite season! Can't get enough! [Bridge: bass pulse, spoken theatrical exchange] I can hear your questions now— “But I'm with the liberal left! Does your little system work for us?” [Lead: impatient sneer, rhythmic delivery] Swap “immigrants” for “Nazi scum,” Same old tribe, a different drum. While they watch, kiss wall, kiss ring— Good boy! Sit! Now dance and sing! [Building, half-sung] Sold your soul with first-class honours, Show some flair for all those donors! Beg, roll over—what a treat! Come on, don't you want that seat? [guitar riff] [Break: bass and drums, call and response] You are the voice of common sense! (Just get 'em to the polls!) The backbone of the nation! [Guitars stop, brief silence] (Gotta catch 'em all!) [Instrumental: dirty dance-punk riff, eight bars] [Final Chorus: full band, frantic gang vocals] It's gobshite season! Round 'em up! Round 'em up! Don't need a reason— Just a bigger bloody truck! More! More! Every last one! Polling day is coming—get the picking done! It's gobshite season! Can't get enough! [Final band stab, abrupt stop]
