Didn't I see you down in San Antone
on a hot and dusty night?
We were eating eggs in Sammy's
when the black man there drew his knife.
Aw, you drowned that Jew in Rampton
as he washed his sleeveless shirt,
You know, that Spanish-speaking gentlemen,
the one we all called Kurt. [bad word] now, gentleman,
I know there's some mistake.
How forgetful I'm [bad word] 
now you fixed your bus'ness straight.

I remember you in Hemlock Road
in nineteen fifty-six.
You're a [bad word] little leather boy
with a smaller piece of stick.
You're a lashing, smashing hunk of man;
Your sweat shines sweet and strong.
Your organs working perfectly,
but there's a part that's not screwed on.

Weren't you at the Coke Convention
back in nineteen sixty-five
You're the misbred, grey executive
I've seen heavily advertised.
You're the great, gray man whose daughter licks
policemen's buttons clean.
You're the man who squats behind the man
who works the soft machine. [bad word] now, gentleman,
your love is all I crave.
You'll still be in the circus
when I'm laughing, laughing on my grave.

When the old men do the fighting
and the young men all look on
And the young girls eat their mothers meat
from tubes of plasticon
Be wary of these my gentle friends
of all the skins you breed.
They have a tasty habit –
they eat the hands that bleed.
So remember who you say you are
and keep your noses clean.
Boys will be boys and play with toys
so be strong with your beast.
Oh Rosie dear, doncha think it's [bad word] 
so stop me if you please.
The baby is dead, my lady said,
“You gentlemen, why you all work for me?”