They’re shutting down the library and closing all the shops
We’ve signed a petition to make it all stop
There’s a benefit gig and a jumble sale
To raise funds for the cause
But if there isn’t any Zumba, I’m staying indoors
There’s a fox hunt this weekend and a badger cull at noon
And protesters barricaded at the farm
The transit vans lined up in the village
Loaded up and ready to go
And if there won’t be any Zumba, I don’t want to know
They had to close the Post Office, the numbers didn’t add true
The petrol pumps no longer dispense fuel
There’s no heating in the school room
Our kids can’t study in the cold
And if there’s going to be Zumba, can we be told?
When will the local bus turn up, I’ve waited here an hour
I didn’t notice those speed cameras before
There drains are always blocked these days
There’s litter piling up everywhere
And not knowing if there’ll be Zumba is to much to bare
So will you face the final curtain with your humanity intact
Knowing that your actions were exact
You can go and find Alberto
Basking in the Florida sun
And stick your fucking Zumba up your bum
A poem by Jon Tout
