Folk music turns me into a fascist
Folk music turns me into a fascist
A terrible thing I know
Folk music turns me into a fascist
A side of me I'd never show
I want to go read a Murdoch paper, call talkback radio
Folk music turns me into a fascist
Redneck music makes me think of rednecks
Bush ranger beards don't grow on the middle cla**
It's a long way from the Appalachians to Brunswick
If I hear another banjo it goes up its owners arse
Folk music turns me into a fascist
I just don't understand
I wanna picket the labor day marches
Hand out books by Ayn Rand
Folk music makes me barrack for mining
And that's not what its for
But as soon as someone starts plucking and whining
I yearn for martial law
Folk music turns me into a fascist
It really really gets my goat
It makes me want to open a sweatshop
And yell out stop the vote
When I hear them wailing, I support whaling
I'm ashamed to admit it to you
I wanna go pave the wilderness
Build a Maccas on Ularu
Folk music turns me into a fascist
When did all the young dudes get so wimpy
Since when did righteousness take the place of fun
Since when did punk rock go all diddly diddly
Tin whistles make me wish they hadn't changed those laws on guns
The folk buskers in the city malls
Beards and tats and crochet hats
I never thought I'd say it I'm so appalled
I even want Chilean pan pipes back
The rich kids slumming it in Melbourne's north
They even made it to Eurovision
To think they're gospel troubadours
They make me wanna bring back conscription
Don't you take me to folky town
I might do something that I'll never live down