| In the past they called me Harry
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| Tabloid bad boy
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| The rawkest lad of the royal family
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| But now I’m on my way to the war in Iraq
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| No more newspapers all on my back
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| Calling me a slacker
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| A right royal embarrassment
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| I am the son of the heir to all of Britannia
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| I wanna be there for all of the action
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| Backin' up my boys on the battlegrounds
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| And Dad’ll be proud
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| Now his roudy youngest son’s grown up
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| And knows how to hold a gun
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| I wasn’t born as the oldest son
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| So of course I’ve become the disposable one
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| But I’ll show you all
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| I’m cut from the same cloth
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| As every monarch that’s ever fought, gained and lost
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| I’ve taken on the job of commanding
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| The greatest squad on the force and I’m on it
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| Honest to God, I cross my heart with my sword
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| And I promise, I wanna assure you all
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| It’s not a task all my advice has made me do
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| The last royal that saw battle was 1982
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| I was over the moon when I found
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| I was chosen to take the troops deployed now
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| I’m going to make the Blues and royals proud
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| And if I break this oath, you can shoot me right down
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| You can put an arrow in my eye
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| Like the last herald when he died
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| But this time I’m on the winning side
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| With the scimitars we’ll deliver in Iraq
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| To the limits of we win at last
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| 'Cause in the past the last time Britain didn’t win a war
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| Was when we fought our current brothers in arms
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| I’m doing this for all the others in our country
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| But most of all for my mother |