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(McCarthy)One, two, three, fourCharles 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 chopoff your headHundreds of bound, big business menHacks from The Sun. Military menSo many rich men weep in despair On and on into Trafalgar SquareHere the rabble comesThe kind you hoped were deadThey've come to chop, to chop, chop, chop your headThese once peaceful streetsThe scenes of revenge you'd wished not to seeRevenge is so sweet for those who don't know anything sweetHere the rabble comesThe kind you hoped were deadThey've come to chop, to chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chopoff your head(c) Complete Music