Some died in ecstasy... some died in poverty ...
but they all die with their boots on at the shouting end of life
Roll me out a barrel, I'll toast you to your knees
Take away this safety net, bring me my trapeze
Order me a stretcher, for midnight if you please
Give me sweet music and strife;
Anything could put me in that long black wooden box
Gunpowder, whisky or the two-tone Chinese pox
But I'm not going quietly, I do not feel the call
I want to stay at the shouting end
So honey, let's not go at all
I WILL NOT GO
AS LONG AS THE ROOM KEEPS SWAYING TO AND FRO
AS LONG AS THE BAND CAN PLAY
HERE IS WHERE I'M GONNA STAY
I'M GONNA STAY AT THE SHOUTING END
THE SHOUTING END OF LIFE
Tea-time with the vultures, drinking with the press
Never trust a vulture that wants you to confess
Me, whose only problem is an excess of excess
They might as well hand you the knife
Gunpowder, whisky, falling off the wire
Anything could put me in that ever after choir
Hacks that want to see me shuffle off the shelf
I hand them each a bottle, I say:
Go fuck yourself