John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
In the isle of man there are no louts
They're all down the dungeons dishing it out
Think them tough but tender
With a bunch of twigs
And a young offender
Old men with purple necks
Who tell you sport is better than sex
Rejuvenare an old pudenda
With a bunch of twigs and a young offender
Sweet little fifteen on a summer hike
Vandal maimed, vandal spite
Vandals sent to up above
A punishment meted out with love