The Ale House Braves

Take your fancy potions and your royal old wives

Tell the ale-house braves they better run for their lives

Have you seen the children with the blood on their hands?

Have you heard about the terror spreading through the land?

'Cos the god you pray to sees the sinners and saints

But he doesn't give a damn about the people he taints

See the hounds of Fleet Street in their tatters and rags

Selling false premonitions for a penny a bag

All the lords and ladies with their diamonds and pearls

Throwing stones in glass houses, not a care in the world

Take your fancy crystals and your fossilised bone

Tell the ale-house braves the devil's gauntlet is thrown

Belly full of whiskey and a pocket full of rope

No fear in dying when you've lost your only hope

The searchers round on you before your final breath

Essence of life surrenders in the face of death

Adverse repulsion seems to drive you to the grave

No hearts on fire can persuade you to be saved

Blood-sucking leeches have grown bigger in the sun

The roses on the stone tell what you have become

Take your fancy potions and your royal old wives

Tell the ale-house braves they better pray for their lives