| My name is Malcolm McLaren | 
| I have brought you many things in my time | 
| But the most successful of all | 
| Was an invention of mine they called punk rock | 
| Ah, let me start from the beginning | 
| Find just four kids | 
| Make sure they hate each other | 
| Make sure they can’t play | 
| There was Steve Jones | 
| Eighteen years of age | 
| A brilliant cat burglar | 
| I nominated him guitarist | 
| Ah, there was another fellow, Paul Cook | 
| Seventeen years of age | 
| A phenomenal acrobat in A-1 condition | 
| Always on time, he had to provide the beats | 
| Lurking in the corner of the shop | 
| I noticed this Dickensian figure | 
| Had it not been for his green hair | 
| I’d have thought him | 
| Something out of «David Copperfield» | 
| I took the opportunity of confronting him | 
| He pretended to think me an idiot, pushed me aside | 
| When I learned he was Irish | 
| And Steve saw his green teeth | 
| We called him Johnny Rotten | 
| Then there was Sidney, with a natural terrorist | 
| Working in the clubs ensured him | 
| That every gig the group played | 
| Ended up in an unpredictable, bloody mess | 
| Bashing and jumping all about | 
| He invented the Pogo | 
| I call them the Sex Pistols | 
| With the line-up complete | 
| We immediately set about | 
| Putting our plan into effect | 
| To swindle our way | 
| To the top of the Rock 'n' Roll industry | 
| It was a plan that within two years | 
| Was to bring us close to a million pounds |