[Originally by The Violators]
    Boy with no name, he was only 18
  Never lughed to much
  Hated the monarchy
  Yes he hated the queen
  Real antisocial and he acted real mean
  Was he in a dream?
  Dowsing her lights was in
  In his dreams
    Rumpa, rumpa, rumpa, hey, hey
  Rumpa, rumpa
  Rumpa, rumpa, rumpa, hey, hey
  Rumpa, rumpa
    So full of hate and full of fury
  To tell you a story
  You would say
  He was a one man jury
  Catalogue of anger posted through your door
  Your door, your door, your door
  A chance would come to even the score
    Stole a gun and he stole a car
  Oh boy, oh boy
  With a pretty doll he would go far
  Down to london where the bright lights are
  Lights are, lights are, lights are
  And i say
  The mission his decision
    He took out the gun
  On that fateful day
  The winds blew cold , the sky turned grey
  He pointed the gun
  And then he pulled the trigger
  The message that he would now deliver