McCarthy
Charles Windsor
Charles Windsor, who's at the door?At such an hour, who's at the door?In the back of an old green cortinaYou're on your way to the guillotineHere the rabble comesThe kind you hoped were deadThey've come to chop, to chop off your headHundreds of bound big business menHacks from The Sun, military menSo many rich men weep in despairOn and on into Trafalgar SquareHere the rabble comesThe kind you hoped were deadThey've come to chop, to chop off your headThese once peaceful streetsThe scenes of revenge you had not wished to seeRevenge is so sweet to those who have never known anything sweetHere the rabble comesThe kind you hoped were deadThey've come to chop, to chop off your head
From Letras Mania