Well I’ve come here for the gargle, not tae cop a blast,
Ye great thick headit ape, I’ll stick yer chin right out yer arse,
Come lookin’ for your pound o’ flesh, but I’ve got nothin’ left,
Cause Christian Brothers & Brides o’ Christ’ve flogged me half to death.
Suck on this ye Succubus, your star’ll never rise,
Ye’ve the smell o’ death about your breath & bullet holes for eyes,
I wish that I were sober, the day I made you mine,