Fantasy Sword Shop

The Hoodie man came walking, walking doon the street
He had a great big Jungle knife clenched between his teeth.
He thought he looked the hardest man ever in the toon.
But local folk knew black Winston was no but a bloody clown.

He sauntered into Elgin Street, he saw a weak target
A aged kilted Scotsman, a weedy sort of Git
Winston took his great knife and challenged the old gent
Give us yer beer money and the money for yer rent

And Winston our braw hoodie, from the exotic carribean
Squared up to our Scotsman, Octogenarian Ian
And with that shout our Winston uttered his last ever word
Cos Ian chopped his head off with his ceremonial sword.

The Polis came and tried to get a statement from Winston.
But when he would not speak to them they duly moved along
Just before they left with old gent they had a word
Warning him that he should wipe the blood off of his sword

They know how to deal with Hoodies in Scotland.