| There are some things
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| That I have done in life
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| That made me ashamed
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| And I keep from the wife
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| Like the stains of butter crumpets
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| That spilt on the page
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| Where they will remain
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| Someday I’ll confess
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| To all those crimes
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| But right now I’d like to say that I am guilty of the crime
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| Of choppin' up the teacher
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| Choppin' up the teacher
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| It was I
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| Yes I am guilty of the crime
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| Of choppin' up the teacher
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| It was I
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| It was those cricket scores
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| That made my claws sink in
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| Oh that bloody gin
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| He told us to go fetch her
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| Though a pterodactyl hatched her
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| So I chopped off his head
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| And went to bed
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| Like I said
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| It’s me who’s guilty of the crime
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| Of choppin' up the teacher
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| Choppin' up the teacher
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| It was I
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| Yes I am guilty of the crime
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| Of choppin' up the teacher
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| It was I
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| He said trouble it will come
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| From the headmaster
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| And he’ll make a right disaster of your bum
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| And my parents they were called
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| And my dad he was appalled
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| When police reported
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| I’d not done the lot
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| Younger parents do distrust
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| Our puplic schools
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| Well they’re fucking fools
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| Cause would the world be better
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| Without paranoid cross dressers
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| I don’t think so
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| I’d miss 'em
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| And so would I
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| He is guilty of the crime
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| Of choppin' up the teacher
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| Choppin up the teacher
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| It was him
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| Yes he is guilty of the crime
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| Of choppin' up the teacher
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| It was him
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| Everybody
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| Yes he is guilty of the crime
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| Of choppin' up the teacher
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| Choppin up the teacher
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| It was him
|
| Yes he is guilty of the crime
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| Of choppin' up the teacher
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| It was him |