Boy with no name
He was only 18
Never laughed to much
Hated the monarchy
Yes he
Hated the queen
Real antisocial and
He acted real mean
Was he in a dream?
Dowsing her lights
Was in his dreams
Rumpa, rumpa, rumpa, hey, hey
Rumpa, rumpa
Rumpa, rumpa, rumpa, hey, hey
Rumpa, rumpa
So full of hate and full of fury
To tell you a story
You would say
He was a one man jury
Catalogue of anger posted through your door
Your door, your door, your door
A chance would come
To even the score
He stole a gun and he stole a car
Oh boy, Oh boy
With a pretty little doll
He would go far
Down to London where the bright lights are
Lights are, lights are, lights are
And I say
The mission his decision
He took out the gun
On that fateful day
The winds blew cold
The sky turned grey
He pointed the gun
And then he pulled the trigger
The message that
He would now deliver
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