Our own serial killer
No doubt in funeral leer
Wayward frail dresses
Couldn't clear up this mess

One day she went too
She was obsessed to
Droptouch in their throats
Her hands were being caught

Each of these deaths
Put me in holy caress
The jury found otherwise
And closed their eyes

Fifty hogs insight
Two hundred outside
Trapdoor thud, the very!
The game was up for Mary.

Where, where? 
Up in the air
Sellin' black puddens 
penny a pair.

Where, where? 
Up in the air
Sellin' black puddens 
penny a pair.

penny a pair
penny a pair 
penny a pair (D'you read me?) [bad word] off nightmare

England fever
Raining deceiver
Everlasting, so
Deadly soul!

Caught in a cage
Dirty bottom stage [bad word] for a [bad word] Behaviour freezing 

Mary Ann Cotton,
She's dead and she's rotten
She lies in her bed,
With her eyes wide open

Sing, sing, oh, 
What can I sing,
Mary Ann Cotton 
is tied up with string

Where, where? 
Up in the air
Sellin' black puddens 
penny a pair.

Where, where? 
Up in the air
Sellin' black puddens 
penny a pair.

penny a pair
penny a pair 
penny a pair (D'you read me?) [bad word] off nightmare