Look Mum, No Hands

Business, as usual starts with the sound
Of another damn funeral march through the town
One less for Saint Nicholas, there’s nothing so vile
Or as sad and ridiculous as the coffin of a child
He flies through the air with the greatest of ease
That daring young man in the blue dungarees
Struck down by the G-force of a Semtex surprise
He bucks like a sea horse, keels over and dies
With his eyes all dramatic, glazed and confused
The full metal jacket, trousers and shoes
He flies through the air with the greatest of ease
That daring young man in the blue dungarees
And his poor pathetic parents, so stricken with grief
That they spelt his name wrong on his funeral wreath
Are appealing for no vengeance on behalf of their son
But they’ve already assembled and planted the bomb
He flies through the air with the greatest of ease
That daring young man in the blue dungarees
Struck down by the G-force of a Semtex surprise
He bucks like a sea horse, keels over and dies