Bring in the defendant! Lugging his noose and chains,
One look to the left then he looks at me and he knows it’s not his day,
The judge hands me her gaville and says, “ do with him what you please”,
So I smash his teeth across the courtroom floor and watch him as he bleeds,
He splutters through claret gums and chokes on his lolling tongue,
“ I’ll never pay my penance, boy, you know this war’s not won!”
So I pick him up by his ears and lift him in line with my eye,
And I tell him, “ not yet my friend, but tonight you’re gonna die”,
Through his blood stained vision he saw my case go past,
When he saw me turn and smile at him he knew it was his last,
He left the court in pieces, with a handful of broken teeth,
And I left for the florist’s parlour to arrange his funeral wreath,
That night the moon was full and high,
As I left to collect what was rightfully mine,
A shotgun concealed down one trouser leg,
And grim thoughts circling within my head,
As I reached the door of the tavern, I stopped and checked my watch,
Closing time at The Victoria Inn is exactly what I want,
So I kicked down the door and casually swaggered inside,
And I see that fucking rat looking for somewhere to hide,
“No use my friend!” I cry, as I reach the middle of the room,
“You don’t have the nerve, my boy, my end is not this soon”,
So I pulled my gun from its holster and aimed it at his gut,
“I want to see the look on your face when I fucking blow you up”,
A shower of ruby droplets painted everything in sight,
And when I saw blood run down the walls I knew that things were all right,
I got down on one knee and reached inside his chest,
I pulled his heart from his body and laid that fucker to rest,
On a quiet night you can still hear his cry,
Echoing through the cellar,
For that is where I buried him,
Six feet beneath the Stella.
Jan, ’10. Oakfield Street.
