Read the paper – humdrum
Henley Regatta – page one
Eat die – ho hum
Page three – big bum
Giving a lunatic a loaded gun
He walks – others run
Thirty dead – no fun
Foreigners feature as figures of fun
Do something destructive chum
Sit right down – write a letter to the Sun
Say… “Bring back hangin’ for everyone”
They took my advice – they brought it back
National costume was all-over-black
There were corpses in the avenues and cul-de-sacs
Piled up neatly in six-man stacks
Hanging from the traffic lights and specially made racks
They’d hang you for incontinence and fiddling your tax
Failure to hang yourself justified the axe
A deedely dee, a deedely dum
Looks like they brought back hangin’ for everyone
The novelty’s gone – it’s hell
This place is a – death cell
The constant clang of the funeral bells
Those who aren’t hanging are hanging someone else
The people pay – the paper sells
It’s plug ugly – sub-animal yells
Death is unsightly – death smells
Swingin’ Britain – don’t put me on
They’re gonna bring back the rope for everyone
LYRICS © JOHN COOPER CLARKE.
