| Well I burnt my suit and I shaved my head
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| And I hunt for cherokees
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| And I trip up scouts, but I don’t use knees
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| 'cos I don’t like blood on my dungerees
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| And I thrown out all my groovy beads and bells
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| And bangles
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| Yes I roam my town for a red or brown
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| With my house-trained pet mongoose
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| Well he’s pretty tame 'til he gets cut loose
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| And I knot my tie in a hangman’s noose
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| And I thrown out my Stanley Mathews tips on
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| How to make it big on the right-wing
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| My job at the butcher’s
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| Pays well, educates me
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| Fat pig, first the lungs and then liver
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| Yeah, yeah, chop it into suey
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| Then hang, swing it in the window for a week
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| Well, my first name’s Fred and it rhymes with de
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| And I don’t take groovy jive
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| Try it on and you won’t leave alive
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| So just don’t get near to my half-pint beer
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| And I thrown out all my William Burroughs books on
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| How to make it big in hospital |