| Banged up in the clinker with a milkman for a mate
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| I must 'ave 'ad it coming but I don’t prognosticate
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| The Sweeney doing ninety with the sirens and the lights
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| And me in striped pyjamas and the Tottenham tights
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| She’s the last of a dying breed a diamond under stress
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| In a time when yes means no and no means yes
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| Well she’s not much of a looker and her father is an 'orse
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| But I like to get my oats without using any force
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| It’s an orrible world
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| Well I’m a tad unreconstructed, that I will admit
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| But I do believe in socialism on a Friday night
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| I take my lady down the Castle, hit the brandy hard
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| Then it’s bouncy-bouncy stabby-stabby
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| Down the knacker’s yard
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| It used to be a struggle but you knew just what to do
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| Everyone read Dworkin so you ad to read er too
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| She said sexual intercourse is just naked aggression
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| You said «That is sadly true but it’s also self-expression»
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| It’s an 'orrible world
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| Well you might as well 'ang for a sheep as a lamb
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| That’s what I always say
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| And it’s up the patriarchy in the manly month of May
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| But they’ve abandoned revolution and your barnet’s thin and grey
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| So it’s down the hatch, up the crotch, cheers and bombs away
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| In an 'orrible world, can’t get no joy
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| With political girls |