The U.K Government are bringing in laws making it illegal to be a traveller.
If you want to protest about that. The same laws will have you put in prison
E.P's called Conscious sounds meets the punk rockers uptown. Featuring Spanner, Terra-lodica & the Mad Dog Collective-
The A side Mixed by Dougie conscious. It's punk ska folk dub and if your skint just type in 0 in the donate bit ,but donate something.
Money raised will be going to:
www.gofundme.com/f/ktb-prisoner-support-fund
to help out people who are in prison now for protesting against this unacceptable law

Better days - Written by I-lodica. Thanks to Effy

Dandelion flocks on the place Annie grew
The clocks they remind her of the life she once knew
She would catch one – “Make a wish”
Her Nanna would say
She’d be Queen of the road one day
Ned would catch a muntjac and tan the leather
‘Till he had gotten old
And n’er mind the weather
He’d make lasting charms
Charge what you could give
And he’d get a two drop of his top tipple in

And he’d sing of the better better days
Of his joy as a boy as they pulled on a new place
He’d pull the rhymes from the sky
And that soul it will never die
That soul it will never die

Trace had done the circuit, she’d reminisce
Of the Bedford days in the convoy
When her two were kids
They would pack like wolf
With the others all wild
What a life for a child

Daz was like a doorman parked up on the gates
He done custom built burners at family rates
Cause community is family extended
And laws that ban family must surely be ended

Old Ned

Would sing of the better days
Of the love for his Ida grazing on the plains and
He’d pull the rhymes from the sky and that soul it will never die
That soul it will never die

The Rafferty's first turned to the travelling ways
When he that would be ‘Lord protectors’ men came
They fled, but then this life was proudly embraced
The families pulled tight and worked hard on the way
And the laws getting pushed through the commons right now
Say if you live in a truck, and you like travelling around
Pull up on some land by the side of the town
Your trucks will be crushed and you’re going down...

Annie, like her Nanna, foresaw events
She could read folk out loud, she was born with the sense
She’d be offered a praise, She’d wave it away
She never made no mistake and never took no pay
Now her touch of the Grace has got no place
On the estates where culture suffocates
She clutches her charms alone on her bed
And remembers the words of her dear old Ned

He would sing of the better days
Of his gold trim vardo sparkling on the wasteland
And he’d pull the rhymes from the sky
And that soul it will never die
That soul it will never die