We're talkin' about a think necked man in the city

Build a pub a blood and sweat

Swears by God he'll stand by justice

He ain't stood be justice yet

He get's them drunk and gets their money

They cash their welfare checks for stout

Now he throws them into the street

He's sucked you in, he'll spit you out



This money-minded S.O.B.

Will not a penny lend

And all I can do is pray to God

He'll suffer in the end



We're talkin' 'bout a thick-necked man in three-piece

Killing from his office desk

The many places he has been

And many more he'll visit yet

Without his mommy's pride & kisses

Without his country's confidence

Without the dying man's permission

Without no guilt or consequence



This bloody-minded S.O.B.

Hes not a wound to men...



Now we're talkin' 'bout a thick-necked man in a fist fight

Losing lots of blood

It's not his right, his boss is uptight

His face and name are covered in mud

He watches T.V., all star wrestling

Slams a six of ale

Hits his wife, wrecks the car

And spends the long dark night in jail

Well the Preacher man, he comes and asks him

Does he know the mess he's is?

He says he'll turn to Jesus if he'll

Bail him out and buy him gin

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