See the priest in gleaming nappies

Gurgling and burping child at play

Signing warrents, blessing firing squads

are the pleasures of this baby's day



In a street where broken buildings fall

on burning people ten feet tall

on stockinged knees, not all, not all

Just those who fight in bonfire light

In spite of all the crowds who call

Their hero, a goldfish jockey

Their hero remains Mr. Baby



Mr. Baby spills it by the ton

He wraps his mouth around his gun

He says, "Scared? You're not the only one."



Did they raise their fists to greet you all

when they saw the colour of your skin?

Did they laugh and say "go home"

when you told them of the trouble you were in?

You know they did

(God is an arms dealer.)



Your complaint is my mandate

and your shoulders are my ladder (straight)

What they cannot defuse they must excuse

and what they must allow they soon will bow to

and they will kneel

They will kneel to Mr. Baby

Oh, you really slay me

Mr. Baby in the burning bushfire

Basement by the crater brook

Reads from his ancient hate-book



Your own, your own Mr. Baby

Baby, baby, baby, don't treat me mean now

Don't bang your head...