Back in 1940
my Grandfather died
Fightin' in a spitfire over the Kent countrysidev 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 [bad word]  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 [bad word] 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 [bad word] up behind me

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

They said "You're not [bad word] 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