Charles Windsor

Charles Windsor who's at the door At such an hour who's at the door In the back of an old green cortina You're on your way to the guillotine Here the rabble comes The kind you hoped were dead They've come to chop, to chop off your head Hundreds of bound big business men Hacks from 'The Sun,' military men So many rich men weep in despair On and on into Trafalgar Square Here the rabble comes The kind you hoped were dead They've come to chop, to chop off your head These once peaceful streets The scenes of revenge you had not wished to see Revenge is so sweet to those who have never known anything sweet Here the rabble comes The kind you hoped were dead They've come to chop, to chop off your head