歌词
Read the paper, humdrum
Henley Regatta, page one
Heat 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 thumb
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
Filed 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-deedily-dee, deedily-dum
Looks like they've 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 hangin' are hanging someone else
The people pay, the paper sells
Its plug-ugly sub-animal yells
Death is unsightly, death smells
Swinging Britain, don't put me on
They're gonna bring back the rope for everyone
