| I’ve rambled down from Glasgow town
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| My labour for to sell
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| Some gaudy bits and baubles and my dignity as well
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| Aw, straight and level, I’ll square the devil
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| His right and daily due
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| A-stumblin' out the door a-singin', 'I'll paddle me own canoe'
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| Oh, pickle your head and pish the bed
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| And be up in the morning early
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| Well, how would you do if I were you
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| And you were Billy McKinley
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| My father tried to book his ticket the day we got the blitz
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| A-steamin' up and down the street a-wavin' all his fists
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| But the Luftie never got the chance to do the fucker in
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| Before my poor old suffering mother came and dropped one on his chin
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| Oh, pickle your head and pish the bed
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| And be up in the morning early
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| Well, how would you do if I were you
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| And you were Billy McKinley
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| Oh, I’d go around the Catholic clubs a-sellin' a game o' chance
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| I’d toss the penny until she sings and make the dice to dance
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| But so’s I wouldnae do my dash and get flung into Hell
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| I’d nip around the orange lodge and take their money as well
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| Oh, you might’ve heard about me in the pubs or on the news
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| A lie can travel the world before the truth has found its shoes
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| I’m an illuminatin', fornicatin', race relatin', Nazi hatin' exaggeratin',
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| tired o' waitin'
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| On top o' the pile McKinley!
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| Oh, pickle your head and pish the bed
|
| And be up in the morning early
|
| Well, how would you do if I were you
|
| And you were Billy McKinley
|
| Oh, pickle your head and pish the bed
|
| And be up in the morning early
|
| Well, how would you do if I were you
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| And you were Billy McKinley |