Charles Windsor who's at the door
At such an hour who's at the door
In the back of an old green cortina

You're on your way to the guillotine

Here the rabble comes

The kind you hoped were dead
They've come to chop, to chop off your head


Hundreds of bound big business men
Hacks from 'The Sun,' military men
So many rich men weep in despair

On and on into Trafalgar Square

Here the rabble comes

The kind you hoped were dead
They've come to chop, to chop off your head


These once peaceful streets
The scenes of revenge you had not wished to see
Revenge is so sweet to those who have never known anything sweet


Here the rabble comes
The kind you hoped were dead

They've come to chop, to chop off your head