Back in 1940
my Grandfather died,
Fightin' in a spitfire over the Kent countryside.
Since then my country never really got back off its knees,
Uncle Joe put paid to that and I was born late seventies.

I heard that over in England men were gettin' paid,

More than I earn in a week, working just one day,
I thought, "What the Hell? I'll go give it my best shot."

Yeah, it's gotta be better than nothin'

And that's exactly what I've got

I caught a train and I headed west sailed across the sea,
Pretty soon I had a job workin' in a factory.
Well, the work was hard
it was hard as Hell,
My fingers bled and my blisters swelled,
Long, long hours back racked with pain,
Just me and Sergei from Ukraine.

When I got my first paycheck it was minus food and board,
"Not much left for me." I thought so this is my reward,
So on my first night off in ten
I wandered into town,

Yeah, I just wanted to have some fun
and have a look around.

I met a girl,
She had blond hair and curls oh,

We got along...

I sung her a Polish love song.

We were kissin' in the car park
when I heard someone come up behind me,

Suddenly I'm surrounded by a group of men who what to hurt me,

They said "You're not welcome in our country.
We're sick of givin' to all and sundry, All the work that you try and rob..."
I said, "Mister, you wouldn't want my job!"

And then I'm down on the floor,
Their boots connecting with my jaw,
Round, round, round my head is spinning,
I don't think I can take much more,

My girl is screamin'
I think I'm going to be killed...

Just like my grandfather
my Polish blood
On England soil is spilt

Just like my grandfather
my Polish blood
On England soil is spilt

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