| It said his blade weighed half a tonne
|
| O' Spanish steel, Christ how it shone
|
| With a whistle & thump yer dash were done
|
| And the axe cared not for who you were
|
| He kept a cell below the tower
|
| Where he signed the cross every half an hour
|
| With a calf skin drum & a rattle tat taa
|
| The Jolly Executioner
|
| He had a son, a drunken sailor
|
| Coulda been a Tinker, Tyke, or tailor
|
| Sailed away to far Australia
|
| To be the executioner
|
| His rope were short, his knots were tight
|
| He’d plait the hemp by candle light
|
| With a crack & twang ye bade goodnight
|
| To the Jolly Executioner
|
| String em high & stretch em well
|
| Burn a candle, strike a bell
|
| Pipe their rotten souls to hell
|
| For the Jolly Executioner
|
| Then some bloke with a kite & key
|
| Invented electricity
|
| And the job were handed down to me
|
| So fortunate you wish you were
|
| I’ve cooked em all, the crooks & crumbs
|
| The vagabonds & hapless bums
|
| With a crackle & pop, 'Ol' Sparky' sung
|
| For the Jolly Executioner
|
| I had a son, near broke me heart
|
| A stand alone, a breed apart
|
| Brought death unto a dying art
|
| A general Practitioner
|
| All white lab coats & PHD’s
|
| And 10cc's of anti-freeze
|
| A noble art brought to its knees
|
| Farewell to the Executioner |