[Verse 1] Nineteen forty-five, the ledger's torn and bleeding, an empire spent on bombers, now the bill wants reading. Attlee takes the chair with a mandate and a creed — "the commanding heights," he says, "belong to common need." No pound of flesh from Whitehall, just paper in its place — they called it quietus: a full and final release, discharge of every claim, so the owners don't resist, debt wearing equity's own borrowed, dressed-up wrist. [Chorus] Bank, then Coal, then Rail, then Spark, then Flame, then Steel, forty-six to fifty-one, hear the engines of the deal — Threadneedle, pit, and platform, turbine, pipe, and ore, swap your shares for certificates, that's what the stock is for. Three percent on British Transport, paid in gilts, not gold, nationalize the industry, and quietus to the old. [Verse 2] Forty-six, the Old Lady's doors are state-owned overnight, the Bank of England answers now to ministers, not might. No riot in the lobby, just a vote and then a pen — the lender of last resort becomes the people's when. [Verse 3] Forty-seven, coal comes under the Board's command, the seams beneath the valleys now belong to common hand. Forty-eight, the railways merge beneath Transport's crown, the Great Western and the LNER lay their old names down. Electricity follows quick, the current finds new wiring, forty-nine brings gas in pipes, the kitchen flame untiring. [Verse 4] Fifty-one, the furnace fight — iron and steel at last, the fiercest of the battles, the most contested cast. Owners didn't lose their wealth, they traded it instead for coupons stamped with interest, a pension dressed in red. [Bridge] Morrison drew the blueprint: a board, not a ballot box, arm's length from the Commons, immune to voting clocks. Public corporation — the halfway house of state, the very shape of structure that later hands deflate. Funny how the debt comes round, the stock gets bought back cheap, what Attlee wove as safety net, another age unpicks to keep. [Chorus] Bank, then Coal, then Rail, then Spark, then Flame, then Steel, forty-six to fifty-one, hear the engines of the deal — Threadneedle, pit, and platform, turbine, pipe, and ore, swap your shares for certificates, that's what the stock is for. Three percent on British Transport, paid in gilts, not gold, nationalize the industry, and quietus to the old. [Outro] Equity to paper, paper backed by state, the public holds the furnace, the public holds the weight. Six industries, one decade, a quietus clean and clear — debt is just an old receipt for what we once held dear.
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