Boy with no name, he was only 18

Never lughed 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

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



Stole a gun and he stole a car

Oh boy, oh boy

With a pretty 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