Granny is starting to look pretty costly    At anywhere up to £500 a year    So even though she is capable, happy and lovely    Its out of the house cos it won't be so dear       And into the poll-tax-free state-run environment    Waiting for death in a small cosy room    We can visit her then and she'll make lots of friends    They'll be queuing for places so we'd better book soon       Charlie is eighteen there's no point in waiting    Forget all that learning and get a job fast    And a flat of your own cos the money's all blown    The family unit's a thing of the past       Well then my darling you'd better start working    Cos husbands are meant to pay tax for their wives    You could be an inspector or a poll tax collector    The only job open are the ones we despise       And the baby is due, maybe we should consider    Abortion, adoption or changing our name    Cos for each extra head there's a mouth to be fed    And the poll tax eats more than we've managed to save       By the year 1999 all these old friends of mine    Will be in prison or gone far away    For the tax's evasion, unable to pay them    Or just for the wanting of somewhere to stay    Of somewhere to stay    Of somewhere to stay       With Thatcher replacing the tiles on our roof    With demands for more money than we've ever got    We'll look back and wish we'd known more and resisted    The poll tax    Student loans    More cuts in benefits    All got together    All got together    All got together and said fuck the lot of it!    Fuck the lot of it!