| Carry me, hooting and howling
|
| To the river to wash off my hands
|
| Of the hot blood, the sweat and the sand
|
| Any rival who goes for our girls
|
| Will be left thumb sucking in terror
|
| And bereft of all coffin bearers
|
| A crude art, a bovver boot ballet — equally elegant and ugly
|
| I was as thrilled as I was appalled, courting him in fisticuffing waltz
|
| Now I’m not saying the lads always deserve a braying
|
| And I’m not saying the girls are worth the fines I’m paying
|
| We’re just brutes bored in our bovver boots
|
| We’re just brutes clowning 'round in cahoots
|
| We’re just brutes looking for shops to loot
|
| We’re just brutes hoping to have a hoot
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Howling!
|
| Hooting and howling
|
| Hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Howling!
|
| Carry me, hooting and howling
|
| To the river to wash off my hands
|
| Of the hot blood, the sweat and the sand
|
| Any rival who goes for our girls
|
| Will be left thumb-sucking in terror
|
| And bereft of all coffin bearers
|
| Hooting and howling
|
| Hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling
|
| Hooting, hooting and howling |