| It said his blade weighed half a tonne | 
| O' Spanish steel, Christ how it shone | 
| With a whistle & thump yer dash were done | 
| And the axe cared not for who you were | 
| He kept a cell below the tower | 
| Where he signed the cross every half an hour | 
| With a calf skin drum & a rattle tat taa | 
| The Jolly Executioner | 
| He had a son, a drunken sailor | 
| Coulda been a Tinker, Tyke, or tailor | 
| Sailed away to far Australia | 
| To be the executioner | 
| His rope were short, his knots were tight | 
| He’d plait the hemp by candle light | 
| With a crack & twang ye bade goodnight | 
| To the Jolly Executioner | 
| String em high & stretch em well | 
| Burn a candle, strike a bell | 
| Pipe their rotten souls to hell | 
| For the Jolly Executioner | 
| Then some bloke with a kite & key | 
| Invented electricity | 
| And the job were handed down to me | 
| So fortunate you wish you were | 
| I’ve cooked em all, the crooks & crumbs | 
| The vagabonds & hapless bums | 
| With a crackle & pop, 'Ol' Sparky' sung | 
| For the Jolly Executioner | 
| I had a son, near broke me heart | 
| A stand alone, a breed apart | 
| Brought death unto a dying art | 
| A general Practitioner | 
| All white lab coats & PHD’s | 
| And 10cc's of anti-freeze | 
| A noble art brought to its knees | 
| Farewell to the Executioner |