In the mist Hanging in a noose While I get dressed Blown to bits by an IRA bomb Weighing not too much more than half a stone Blown to bits By an IRA Bomb A dirty old man Had his own ambitions In his day To live with the queen And I should know Cos I was there Blown to bits By an IRA bomb That little boy is no more Feed him to the fish Intestines in a plastic bag And that's what you get from those fucking fags