Sticks and Stones

I used to be a beggar man, living on the streets,
Beggin' all the better men, to help me get a meal.
But here's the thing with better men, they're best at being mean.
So I got fed with sticks and stones, that broke my bones.

So I became a wicker man, to learn an honest trade,
Asking all the better men to buy what I had made.
But here's the thing with better men, they're good at being cheap
So I got payed in kicks and spits,
And sticks and stones that broke my bones.

Sick of the receiving end, I donned the headsman's hood,
Rum drunk and with sword in hand, some justice serve I would.
But here's the thing with better men they never lie quite still,
So I got served with rotten eggs,
And kicks and spits,
And sticks and stones, that broke my bones.

Then I become a mariner, in the navy I enrolled
I learned from ranking better men, to do as I'd been told.
But here's the thing with better men, it's hard to make them pleased,
So all I got was chains and rope
And rotten eggs,
And kicks and spits,
And sticks and stones, that broke my bones.

I begged, I worked, I fought so hard
To keep my conscience clean
But there is always better men
Who will treat you mean
However hard you try my friend
You'll always fall out short
And all you get is broken hopes,
And rotten eggs
And chains and ropes,
And kicks and spits,
And sticks and stones, that brake your bones!

So now I am a buccaneer that sail the seven seas,
Preying on them better men for riches I can seize.
And if they think they're better still, I bring them to their knees,
Then I give them a taste of the old keel and plank,
And rotten eggs,
And chains and rope
And kicks and spits,
And sticks and stones, that brake their bones!