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See the priest in gleaming nappies Gurgling and burping child at play Signing warrents, blessing firing squads are the pleasures of this baby's day In a street where broken buildings fall on burning people ten feet tall on stockinged knees, not all, not all Just those who fight in bonfire light In spite of all the crowds who call Their hero, a goldfish jockey Their hero remains Mr. Baby Mr. Baby spills it by the ton He wraps his mouth around his gun He says, Scared? You're not the only one. Did they raise their fists to greet you all when they saw the colour of your skin? Did they laugh and say go home when you told them of the trouble you were in? You know they did (God is an arms dealer.) Your complaint is my mandate and your shoulders are my ladder (straight) What they cannot defuse they must excuse and what they must allow they soon will bow to and they will kneel They will kneel to Mr. Baby Oh, you really slay me Mr. Baby in the burning bushfire Basement by the crater brook Reads from his ancient hate-book Your own, your own Mr. Baby Baby, baby, baby, don't treat me mean now Don't bang your head...

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