Four and twenty crowbars, jemmy your desire
There are ashtrays of emotion for the fag ends of the aristocracy
And the camera noses in to the tears on her face
What would you say? What would you do?
They come from lovely people with a hard line in hypocrisy
The sugar coated pill is getting bitterer still
Some folk have all the luck
Give me the needle, give me the rope
You can't put them back together
Give us your daily bread in individual slices
Give me the needle, give me the rope
And all we get are pictures of Lord and Lady Muck
The king is in the counting house
You can put them back together with your paper and paste
Don't dilly dally boys rally round the flag
The tears on her face, the tears on her face
But you can't put them back together
Out of the frying pan into the fire
You think your country needs you but you know it never will
Children and animals two by two
We're going to melt them down for pills and soap
We're going to melt them down for pills and soap
So pack up your troubles in a stolen handbag
