Take your fancy potions and your royal old wives 
Tell the ale-house braves they [bad word] for their lives 
Have you seen the children with the blood on their hands? 
Have you heard about the terror spreading through the land? 
'Cos the god you pray to sees the sinners and saints 
But he doesn't give a [bad word] about the people he taints 

See the hounds of Fleet Street in their tatters and rags 
Selling false premonitions for a penny a bag 
All the lords and ladies with their diamonds and pearls 
Throwing stones in glass houses, not a care in the world 
Take your fancy crystals and your fossilised bone 
Tell the ale-house braves the devil's gauntlet is thrown 

Belly full of whiskey and a pocket full of rope 
No fear in dying when you've lost your only hope 
The searchers round on you before your final breath 
Essence of life surrenders in the face of death 

Adverse repulsion seems to drive you to the grave 
No hearts on fire can persuade you to be saved 
Blood-sucking leeches have grown bigger in the sun 
The roses on the stone tell what you have [bad word] 

Take your fancy potions and your royal old wives 
Tell the ale-house braves they better pray for their lives